


It Was In Me

by hpmiddleearth



Series: It Was In Me [1]
Category: Avril Lavigne (Musician), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, BAMF You, Based on an Avril Lavigne Song, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mental Health Issues, Sigrid is a bitch, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpmiddleearth/pseuds/hpmiddleearth
Summary: A story about a girl who wakes up from a terrible (and terribly long) nightmare in Erebor. She knows she has to try and save those that died in BOTFA, and in the aftermath she has to find a life of her own.Chapter titles are Avril Lavigne songs that fit the chapter.NOTE: I just edited the title of this work from 'My Happy Ending' to 'It Was In Me' because of an error on my part. I feel like this title is more fitting to the moral of the story.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dori & Reader, Dís & Reader, Fíli (Tolkien)/Reader, Fíli (Tolkien)/You, Kíli (Tolkien) & Reader
Series: It Was In Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202546
Kudos: 10





	1. Head Above Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! First off, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. This is the first chapter and is meant as an introduction to the character (in later chapters referred to as 'you'). This chapter is very different from the rest of the story but it was important for me to include as I wrote this when I was at a low point in my mental health and it reflects how I felt back then. I has been a year and a half and I feel loads better nowadays, something that is also visible in the story as it progresses. I hope y'all like it (kind of scared about posting this because it is so personal. oh well) and don't hesitate to comment for constructive critisism, or just for telling me how you liked it. If you don't like this chapter, the rest will be very different so don't give up after the first chapter! Enjoy ^^  
> !!IN THIS CHAPTER ARE DESCRIPTIONS OF ANXIETY AND ANXIETY ATTACKS. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, SKIP THIS CHAPTER!!

Absent-mindedly, the girl walked through the busy shopping street. Her music was playing loud in her ears, and she stared ahead without really seeing. Her mind was elsewhere; why stay in her own world when it was so shitty there? There were other worlds to explore, to experience, and she enjoyed them much more than her own. Her world was too big, too ugly, too loud. Above all, there were too many humans there. Humans made everything they touched shitty, to her opinion. Even themselves.

With these bitter thoughts in the back of her mind, she walked angrily, resting bitch face in place, daring people to judge her. She liked to think she would make a good villain, in another world. Black did always look good on her.

As she tucked her hair behind her ears, the girl scanned the ground as she walked, afraid of stepping in something filthy. She hated the city. She much preferred the small village in which she had grown up, about 2 hours travel by train from the city in which she studied. She loved her friends, but other than that, she didn’t seem to get much joy out of her study. Not anymore. Nothing could, lately. She hated that, too. She hated a lot of things about her life.

That is why she would rather lose herself into other worlds, which she found in books. Books, for her, were like portals. Once she lost herself in one, she could forget her own life, her dark moods, her pain. Nothing else was quite as effective.

Her favourite book was the Hobbit. She was almost obsessed with it. She imagined the endless forests, wide lakes, and open plains of that wonderful world. And then, of course, the astounding wonders the world had to offer: elves, dragons, hobbits and dwarves, wizards and ents and giant eagles. She imagined herself in awesome outfits, from dresses made from plants to armour of mithril. In her mind, she had wielded magic, swung swords, shot down foul beasts with a bow and arrow. She had fought in wars, battled great spiders, even ridden dragons. In that world, there was nothing she couldn’t do. And she always felt good in it.

Of course, she didn’t always imagine herself alone. Most of the time, she was with the company of Thorin Oakenshield. She had seen the movies so many times, she could recall the faces of the Dwarves as easily as if they were old friends. They always made her feel so good, and she hated it when she had to return to her own world, in which everything sucked.

As the girl walked down the street to where her bike was, her phone rang. Her heart jumped to her throat and her breath became shallow as the loud ringtone called out to her. With shaking hands, she pulled the phone from her pocket. It was only her friend. _Calm the fuck down, you’re overreacting again_ , she scolded herself. She was tough on herself. She had to be, if she wanted to get anywhere in life. She didn’t want to be weak. _Well, as if that helps_ , she added as a thought. She stopped walking and put the phone to her ear. “What’s up, Luna?” her bright voice danced through the air, betraying nothing about her foul mood.

“Hey, girl!” her friend answered. “Did you pick up that present for Steven from the post office? I know you, and I thought I’d better check to make sure!” she said with a laugh.

“Fucking hell, you’re right. No worries, I’m still on main street, I’ll go there right now. Thanks for the reminder, my mind is all over the place today…” _except not only today…_

They talked for a bit and then hung up. The girl turned around and picked up the parcel from the post office. She was glad her friend had called her, or she would show up tonight with no present for the birthday boy… She cursed her memory. It was like she was suffering from amnesia lately, sometimes forgetting things the moment after they occurred to her. Important things, too. Like her name. What was it again?

Still grumbling to herself, she walked out of the shop, package in hand, and turned right. What she didn’t see, though, was the man coming from the left. She knocked into him with her fast walking pace, and the package flew from her hand.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, lassie!” the man said, but it was said in a friendly way. Blushing, she mumbled an apology and went to pick up the box from the ground. However, the man was quicker. He picked up the package and, smiling, held it out to her. Awkwardly, she smiled back and took the package. Then she looked at his face, and her smile vanished. The man, not noticing the sudden change in her expression, walked on ahead of her. She stayed behind, baffled.

She was sure she had imagined it. The face that she had seen, that had smiled at her, belonged to Bofur. She would recognize that hat anywhere. Though, admittedly, even without the hat she would have recognized the familiar face. But it couldn’t be him! He was a fantasy character, from a fantasy world. He could never exist in her boring, mundane world. And yet she was sure about it. Was this some kind of stunt? Was it really just James Nesbitt, the actor playing Bofur in the Hobbit films, dressed up as his character, for, what, media attention or something? She didn’t want to believe it was actually him, for that would mean that she had gone crazy. There were no dwarves in her world, nor any other fantasy character. Her world was predictable and boring.

Yet she had to know. She needed to know she hadn’t gone crazy. She decided to follow the man, casually have a look at his face and see that she had only imagined it, that it was just a man looking like Bofur, and with the same hat, which was very unlikely but still better than her going mad.

She waited until the man had put some distance between them, then started out after him. Her mind was reeling, but she had to keep up or she would lose him. She didn’t want to think about losing him, this was important. She could feel it in some inexplicable way. She shoved people aside in the busy street, trying to keep up with the man, who was walking faster than she had anticipated. Panic started to pour inside her body. Her breath was becoming short and superficial, and she was getting dizzier with every step she took. _No, not now!_ She focused on her breathing. _Breathe in now, 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… and out, 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… you can do it girl, just keep breathing slowly. I’m not going to lose him, just keep on going girl, you can do it. In, 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… and out, 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7…_

Slowly, her head became clearer and the dizziness lessened. Still breathing deeply and carefully, she moved to the other end of the street. It was less busy here and she didn’t want to alarm the man she was following. He turned into a side street, and his pace slowed down a bit. She put some more distance between them, just to be safe. As the man walked on, and started whistling, she started to doubt herself. She felt quite ridiculous, following a man only because in a flash, she had seen a face and thought it was a fantasy character!

Yet she did nothing to stop herself, even if she had tried she couldn’t have. She was too obsessed, too desperate for a change in her monotonous life, even if it was made up by her own mind. _I’m sure it was just my imagination running wild, and later I’ll look back at this and laugh about it_.

The man reached into his pocket, and took out a keychain. He stopped at a green door. On it hung a number 14. He turned his head in the girl’s direction as he turned the lock, but by then she had hidden behind a tall bush and he didn’t see her. He also didn’t see the shocked expression on her face while she fought to keep control of her breath.

 _I’ve fucking lost my mind now,_ she thought, _it is him! I’m fucking seeing Bofur walking around in my city! I must be hallucinating or something… what’s happening to me? Okay fuck, just breathe now, just breathe. In and out, that’s it, easy now._

She stood there just breathing for a while, clearing her head. When she calmed down, she just felt silly. _What was I even trying to do? I followed someone home, and what now? It’s not like you’re going to knock on the door and be swept off to Middle Earth… you did not think this through. When I get home, I will call my therapist and tell them I’ve started hallucinating. Wait, is that a smart thing to do? They might put me away somewhere, and then I can’t finish my studies! Okay, fucking think. What do I do? Maybe just… I’ll just go home right now and… and I’ll just not think of Middle Earth from now on or anything that has to do with it! Yes, if I just don’t think about it, then it should go away, right? I probably can’t see things that aren’t there if I don’t think about it._

She walked away, hating herself and her stupid, malfunctioning brain. Why couldn’t it just do its fucking job? It had done just fine until a few months before, when it had suddenly decided it was tired of being a normally functioning brain. That was when the panic attacks had started, and the dark moods, and the crying, and the lack of concentration and… the list went on. All because of… what? She didn’t know. She only knew that her wiring was all wrong now. Everything was warped.

The rational and cheerful girl she identified as, was gone. It wasn’t the dark moods that bothered her most, or the lack of concentration that interfered with her studies, or even the panic attacks every now and then. She could live with those things. She knew she would be able to accept those things, in time. No, it wasn’t the things that had come into her life. It was the things that were gone. With this defect, as she saw it, her whole personality had changed. And she didn’t know if it was going to come back.

Nowadays, she was a lot more emotional, and she could not rationalize the feelings. She no longer was the outgoing, friendly girl that she had been before. It was as if she was a stranger to herself, she no longer knew herself. That was the most unsettling thing of it all. She wanted her identity, her personality, back. But she could no longer reach it, even though it was only some weeks ago that she had lost it. Or was it months? It felt almost like years, but… that couldn’t be true, could it?

The girl sighed and dispelled the confusing thoughts, then jumped on her bike with the intention of going home. Only, there was so much excessive energy in her that she had to let it out, so she took a large detour, pedalling as fast as she could. Soon, she found herself at the other side of the city, out of breath, and then she started making her way home at a slower pace.

By the time she got home, the sky was already darkening. She was exhausted and hungry, and hated herself and the world she had to live in, and she was hurting inside, and she just wanted to break down and cry. _How did I get like this_ , she asked herself for the umpteenth time. Yet there was never an answer.

She put her bike in the bicycle shed, and turned to her home. It was a large, grey complex meant for storing students. It wasn’t a flat, not really, rather a large building, which spanned eight floors and three wings. It was a fine place to live, really, with spacy rooms and large windows. What the girl hated, though, was having corridor mates. She lived on a corridor with 16 rooms, and that meant there were always people around. She didn’t want people around. She wasn’t an unsociable person, in contrary, she quite liked being around people, just not in her home. There, she wanted to rest and get energy that she spent socializing. She couldn’t charge as well if there were yet more people in her house.

Still, she had to make do, and she didn’t want to complain as she did have a good place there. She lived on the first floor, which was perfect as it was low enough to always take the stairs, and she would never have to hate herself for taking the elevator.

The girl, overcome by fatigue, worries and sadness, walked into the building and up the stairs. She never saw the tall man with the long, grey beard standing by the elevator, nor his smile that faded as he saw her, replaced by a worried expression.

* * *

As she walked into her room, she finally allowed her feelings to overpower her. If she had to lose control, at least she could postpone it to a place where no one would know. As salt tears streamed down her face, and heavy sobs pushed out of her lungs, she threw herself onto her bed and let the feelings take hold of her. She felt like she was suffocated, the sadness so big and so strong that it took hold of her and squeezed everything else from her body, it pushed all other feelings away. After a while, however, the cries ceased, and the girl felt a little bit better. She washed her red, puffy eyes with a cold washcloth, and put her brave face back on. She had a party to go to.

She looked at her tear-stricken face in the bathroom mirror. It felt little better after the cold wash. She took a deep breath, and tried to think of a happy memory. At first, an image of an acorn, loving eyes and a shy smile came to mind. But no, she had decided not to think of Tolkien’s world again. She pushed the image away. She searched between her own memories. After some thinking, a memory floated up to the surface. She was just a little girl, and lying on her parents’ bed with her mother. Soft music was playing, and a flickering candle gave off a sweet scent. They weren’t doing anything, they were just lying there, listening to the soothing music. It was enough; they knew all they needed was each other’s presence. The little girl felt safe and content.

With this memory in mind, the girl looked her mirror image in the eye. “Expecto patronum!” she said aloud. And again. “Expecto patronum!” One last time. “Expecto patronum!” It wasn’t Tolkien, and it helped, so she sought comfort in the world of Harry Potter instead. Second best, but it would do the trick.

She knew enough of it to know that the dementors had represented J.K. Rowling’s own depression, and the spell “Expecto patronum”, literally meaning “I expect a protector”, provided a shield against the dementors. She imagined the same for herself: as she said the words aloud, and kept the feelings of happy memories in mind, she imagined a silvery shield going up around her body and her heart, providing a feeling of safeness and contentment, and protecting her from bad feelings. It always made her feel a little bit better. And she needed it now.

Quickly, she put on some make-up. She didn’t bother putting on new clothes; as wretched as she might feel, she always dressed up neatly, for herself more than for others, and because it made her feel more like herself. The day she would show up somewhere in jogging pants would be the day she gave up. And she wasn’t quite ready to give up. Deep down she was a fighter, even though she didn’t view herself as such. This was a different kind of courage than the one needed on a battlefield. The courage to get up and get through the day, and to get out of your house, is the more silent kind of courage, under the surface, easily ignored, but therefore not less valiant.

The party sucked. The birthday boy, Steven, was a member of her friend group, and therefore a friend of her, but he had always made her feel uneasy. She didn’t know what it was, it was probably nothing, just her own weird brain making something out of nothing, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about him. Her mind had developed an aversion against him, and there was really nothing she could do about it.

Because of this aversion, her brain had begun making him ugly in her eyes. He was not an ugly person per se, quite average or maybe a bit below, but her aversion had slowly etched its way into her view of him, fixating on the less attractive features and ignoring the better ones. Where normally she would maybe have given the boy a 6, now she could barely stand the sight of him. She didn’t let it show; she knew better. But inside, her aversion, and with it the uneasy feeling, grew.

The party in itself didn’t suck that much; all her friends were there, so it should have been a great night. However, the combined factors of being in Steven’s house, her fatigue, and her bad mood, made it suck in her experience. She wanted to enjoy it, but as the hours went by, she found herself looking at her phone more and more often, which was her way of closing herself off when it all became too much.

She ended up going home early, with the excuse of being tired. It was a half-truth. She didn’t really care, she just wanted to get home by then.

Sleep wouldn’t come easy that night. Then again, it hadn’t come easy for some time, but now it was extra hard. Usually, she would imagine herself doing really anything in Middle Earth until she fell asleep, but now she couldn’t because she had forbidden herself to think about it. It was not easy; her thoughts drifted there again and again, and her mind was reeling from everything that had happened that day.

* * *

The beeping of her alarm woke her that morning. The girl was running late and rushed out the building to her bike. She didn’t see the pair of eyes watching her from the other side of the street. What she did see, was Bofur. Again. Walking around on her campus. She nearly bumped into another cyclist, and when she looked back he was gone. She was sure she was hallucinating, that time. _Just give it some time_ , she thought, _it will surely stop if I don’t think about it._ But it scared her, and her mind kept drifting back to the dwarf.

She couldn’t concentrate on the lecture that day. The professor droned on and on about greenhouses and LED-lights, and she tried to pay attention, sensing it was important information for the test, but her mind just wandered off on its own. She stared ahead, her eyes open but not really seeing, replaying the events of yesterday and this morning over and over again in her head. She had never been so distraught. No wonder, she thought she was seeing things.

And she didn’t have anyone to talk to about it, as she was sure they wouldn’t understand. They would just get scared of her, or judge her. It was inevitable.

After what seemed like forever, the lecture ended at last. The girl was one of the first out the door. Consciously putting her resting bitch face back in place, she put on her headphones and turned the volume up, just so loud that she couldn’t make out conversations anymore. That was always what tired her the most; hearing multiple conversations at once and more sounds in the background, so that she constantly had to filter the noise away. It was exhausting. But she fought on bravely, and did not give in to the need to go home and hide under the covers. She knew if she did that, then it would be very hard coming out of it again.

The day sauntered by, uneventful, and the girl was glad to be home; she was exhausted after a full day of interaction and background noise. Moreover, she’d had to cycle home through curtains upon curtains of lashing rain, and she had been drenched when she reached her home.

Still dripping, she turned her key in the lock and opened the door. She was not prepared for what she found behind it. On her bed sat Nori the dwarf. After a moment of shock, in which they stared in each other’s wide-eyed faces, the girl squeezed her eyes shut. “Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head!” she said aloud. She carefully opened her eyes again, but Nori was still there. He smiled at her, swinging his feet back and forth.

“You’re a figment of my imagination,” the girl said, her voice trembling. “and you have crossed the border. This is my reality. You can’t come here. Go away!” As she spoke, an edge of panic creeped into her words. Seeing things on the streets she could live with. She could tell herself it had been a trick of the light, or someone just really looked like him. Here, however, she could find no more excuses. She was now sure of it; she was suffering from hallucinations.

When she reached the conclusion, the girl felt a strange sort of detachment. She had expected to cry, or panic, or maybe to run, but she did none of those things. Instead, she slowly closed her door behind her and put down her soaked backpack. Then, Nori began to speak to her. “Hey there,” he said, “I don’t really know what to say…” as he fell silent, seemingly searching for words, the girl interrupted him. “Don’t say anything”, she retorted. “As you’re a projection of my mind, you are me, and anything you say I will already know. So please, save your imaginary breath and get back where you belong; in my head. Also, I’m not going to just stand here talking to myself, as you are me so you will also know everything I tell you. So from now on I will ignore you, and I would appreciate it if you do the same so I can study in peace.” She hung her coat out over a chair, took off her boots, then grabbed a towel and, without looking back, left her room to shower. Nori watched her go, his expression unnoticed.

When the girl returned to her room a half hour later, Nori was gone, and she was relieved. Still, the feeling of his eyes on her lingered, creating a disconcerting feeling within her as if she was still being watched. She crossed her room and closed her curtains tightly.

Sleep did not come easy that night, or the night after, or the whole week after that. The girl kept expecting to see dwarves everywhere she went. It was exhausting and nerve-wracking, and she felt as if she was just a walking, talking empty shell of the healthy girl she had been a month (year? Two years? A decade?) ago. She spent her days in a sluggish, black state that her lack of sleep forced upon her.

Still, she got through the days. She counted her breaths and whispered her Patronus charms, the words a mantra on her tongue. It kept her from going crazy, or more crazy than she believed she already was. And she read more books than ever before, allowing herself to escape and get lost in the worlds of others.

After a week, the girl decided to stop feeling sorry for herself and forced herself to go outside. It was a relatively beautiful day, as beautiful as it got in the chilly month of November, and she felt a bit better, at least good enough to put on her coat and shoes and get out the door.

She decided she would go to the park and look at the autumnal colours that painted the trees in the bright shades of that time of year. As she strolled around, she made sure to go slowly, to really look around herself, trying to notice every detail on the moist leaves that surrounded her. After half an hour, she finally began to feel a tiny bit of contentment, something she hadn’t felt for a long time. It brought the tiniest of smiles on her face, just the littlest twitch of her mouth. But it was more than she had hoped for, and she wandered around for a long time after that.

When another hour had passed, she heard a pair of footsteps coming up behind her. She stepped to the side of the path to let the person pass, her eyes still fixed at a point in the canopy above her. But the footsteps stopped next to her, and a voice said to her: “I always like the trees best in autumn. It is humbling, in a way, to be reminded of life’s finitude.”

The girl chuckled at the old man’s words, still looking up. “I just like the colours. I’m not one to look for meaning in it; if you think about it you could make a metaphor of anything you see, and what would that contribute?” She looked at the man then, and promptly stopped talking. It was not a visitor of the park as she had thought, but the dwarf Dori. She quickly looked around if anyone had heard her talking, for she would be embarrassed to be seen talking to herself, but luckily there was nobody around. “I’ll be ignoring you now, _mind_ ,” she said, and strode away, hoping to leave the man behind.

He persisted though, and kept his place next to her. “There is no need to be so rude, you know,” he told her. “Nori was quite out of sorts previous week when you yelled at him for no reason. I do hope you realize the impact of your words upon others. You should know how powerful words can be and to be careful with how you use them,” he concluded. It only earned him an angry glare.

“Do not get me wrong, it _is_ wonderful to meet you. We’re just trying to help you, you know, and though you don’t know us that well, it is painful to have you straight out dismissing the fact that we are even real! We are here to help you but we cannot do that if you will not give us the chance.” The girl scuffed a rock, stubbornly gazing ahead and uttering a stray greeting when she passed other people in the park. She did not acknowledge Dori in any way.

As Dori tried to continue his speech, she cut him short by humming a tune under her breath. Then they reached the gates, and when the girl walked through them, Dori gave up. “But do not think we will just give up on you like that,” he said softly. “We _will_ get you out of here!”

As the girl walked away from him, a sad expression showed on her face. How she had longed for someone to care about her like that, to be there for her even when she was being stupid, for someone to whisk her away from this dreadful life, and now that it was within her reach, it was all fake. It didn’t seem fake, though, for her it was but all too real. But she just knew that it couldn’t be true. She didn’t dare have hope, because she was convinced it would be taken away from her at some point. If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is.

But even though it was all in her head, would it be so bad to give in to it? She would have people caring about her, genuinely, and they would always be there when she needed them. Wasn’t that in some weird way better than actual people, who could betray you or lose interest? She didn’t know what to do anymore, and in her uncertainty she lost control over herself. She felt how her heartbeat accelerated tenfold and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Hitting the pedals of her bike with all her might, she tried to stall it, at least until she came home.

When she finally slammed the door behind her, her hands were shaking and tears streaking her face. Her chest ached inside as she fought to control her breath, to no avail. She thought she would suffocate then, until she saw one of the Dwarves standing in the corner of her room. She didn’t see who he was, but he walked over to her and put his arms around her, speaking to her in soothing tones and breathing along with her.

After what seemed like an hour, finally her breathing eased and she pulled back from the Dwarf. Feeling ashamed, she avoided looking at him, studying the tips of her toes instead. “I’m sorry,” she said, and wanted to say more, but she was quickly cut short. “Don’t be,” came the reply. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about. It just had to come out. Are you feeling better now?” “A bit,” she said in a thin voice, and finally looked up at him.

She realized, then, that it had not been a Dwarf at all. Sitting right next to her was Bilbo! With his thumbs, he brushed her tears away, and along with them the last of her doubts. “I’m sorry for everything, Bilbo,” she said. “For not believing you were real, and for not trusting you. I just… don’t understand how you are here. And what you want from me, and why you are being so nice.”

“It’s okay. Now that you will listen to us, I will speak for all of the Dwarves. I can explain everything. Although I’m afraid there are also some things that I, myself, do not fully understand. Like how you seemed to recognize every one of the company when they first met you.” He paused then, waiting for an explanation, but it only got him a look. His question confused the girl, but she wanted answers first. So he went on.

“To answer your questions, I will start with the first one. We were brought here by Gandalf the wizard… are you familiar with him, too?”

The girl smiled and nodded. Indeed she was. She had already started wondering when he would show up. When Hobbits ventured outside the Shire, Gandalf was never far behind. “I know your story, Bilbo Baggins, though I don’t know how much of it is true. I know you went with Thorin’s company on a quest to reclaim Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. I know you succeeded… but with a price. I’m afraid that whole story happened, for I haven’t… seen them around,” she said with her eyes cast down.

Bilbo squinted then, visibly taken aback. “You are partially right. I did go with Thorin and company to reclaim Erebor, but we haven’t succeeded yet. True, Smaug is dead, but there is an army of Men and Elves perched outside our gates. I also don’t know whom you are referring to when you were talking about a price, but every one of the company has survived so far. We even got Gandalf back!” The girl perked up, then, and said in an excited tone: “Are you sure? So there hasn’t been any… fighting? Everyone lives?”

Bilbo contemplated the girl. “Yes, we are all alive and well… although Thorin’s been acting a bit strange…” his eyes glazed over a little, and his brow furrowed to show lines of worry. “If I may ask… how do you know so much about us? You’ve never met us, have you?”

The girl thought for a moment. She couldn’t tell the truth, because if Bilbo or any of the Dwarves would read the book or watch the movie, it could change things… more people could die! On the other hand, if she told him, maybe Thorin, Kíli and Fíli could be saved… but in the end, she decided against it. She could always tell him, or any of the Dwarves, later.

So she replied in all honesty: “I’m sorry Bilbo, but I can’t tell you. Maybe someday, when everything has played itself out.” He didn’t look convinced, but continued his story.

“When Smaug left the mountain, and the refugees took up residence in Dale, Gandalf finally arrived at Erebor. He’d been off on some quest of his own, and was delayed by it, but he made it in the end, and that was all that really mattered. Anyway, he found a sort of hidden chamber deep within Erebor, I don’t know how, for it was _well_ concealed – wizard senses or something, I wager – but he opened it and we found… _something_. We didn’t know what it meant, but it’s the reason Gandalf sent us here, to you.

He sent us here… ah, it’s hard to explain how he did it, for I don’t know his ways, nor will I ever try to. It would be a fruitless endeavour,” he added with a smile. “The reason, though, I will tell you, at risk of losing your trust once more, for I doubt you will believe me.”

The girl smiled at that. She had never thought it would be simple, or easy. “Try me,” she challenged him. “All right then,” Bilbo said to her with a sigh. “Here goes… the _thing_ that we found in that hidden chamber deep in Erebor… it wasn’t a thing. It was you.”

“I’m confused,” the girl said, confused. “I’m here, in another world, how can I be locked in a room in Erebor? I want to believe you, Bilbo, and I think I trust you, but it just doesn’t make sense.”

“I understand,” Bilbo said. “And I’ll try to explain the parts that I understand, as well as I can. You are in Erebor, but you are also here. You see, this world- it’s not real. When we found you in Erebor, you were asleep. You still are. This whole world, it’s all a dream. Gandalf somehow made us fall asleep, too, and made sure our dreams mingled with yours. Then we just had to find you and somehow wake you up.”

The girl had never felt so bewildered. An incredulous scoff escaped her lips. “You are telling me… my whole life has been a dream? A life of shadows, and pain, and torment and panic and scars – it’s all nothing? Just my imagination? And you, who magically appear in and out of my life, are _real_? I’m sorry, Bilbo, but I can’t believe you. You’ll have to come up with something more believable.”

She turned away from him, and thought for a bit. Bilbo had said that when they had found her, the army of the Men and Elves was already at their gates. They had already been in her world for weeks… Bilbo needed to bring the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduíl! If he was stuck in her world while the army attacked… no, that couldn’t happen. She had to convince Bilbo, somehow, that he had to leave. Along with everyone that played a role the night that Bilbo snuck out, and afterwards. She would have to send Bofur along with him, and Bombur, who had been on watch duty that night, before and after Bilbo… and Thorin had to be there too. Fíli and Kíli she wasn’t sure about, but she felt like they needed to be in Erebor too. And Balin and Dwalin for good measure. That still left plenty of Dwarves to deal with her. She quickly counted in her head: Bífur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oín and Gloín. Six Dwarves would probably still be more than she could handle. She contemplated sending Gandalf along too, but she didn’t know if he was even in this world, and he wouldn’t listen to her anyway… Then a plan formed in her head.

“Bilbo, I can’t believe you right now, but time is short. I’m sure the others will be able to help me, now that I’m willing to listen.”

Bilbo interjected. “But you’ve been asleep for who knows how many years, why is time so important to you now?”

“It’s not about me, Bilbo. It’s about you. Please, you have to trust me! You owe it to me. You have to go. You are the one who… has to set things in motion. The army outside your gates? It won’t keep waiting there forever! Your defences are good, I know, but you can’t hide in Erebor forever, you know it too! Once you go back, I’m sure you’ll find a… _powerful persuasion_ to get the armies to retreat. There doesn’t have to be a war. No blood has to be shed!” She felt terrible for giving Bilbo hope to avoid the terrible bloodshed that would inevitably follow, but it was necessary. The Arkenstone _needed_ to get out of that mountain.

“I don’t understand how you know this… but I think I can trust you,” Bilbo said. “In the room where we found you, there were strange runes on the table where you were laid out. Gandalf could barely decipher them, but he thinks you will play some role in… _destiny_ or whatever.” He seemed a bit sceptical of it himself, but his trust in Gandalf was too great for his own beliefs. “So I will do what you say. What do I have to do?”

The girl thought about it carefully. One wrong word could upset the entire history – or was it future now? Anyway, she could not tell him too much. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. Just heed what I have already said to you, and take Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bofur, Bombur, Balin and Dwalin with you. If what you say is true, then they need to be in Erebor.” Bilbo nodded, and stood to leave.

“Oh, and Bilbo?” she called after him. He looked back at me. _Will this be the last time I ever see him?_ “Be careful,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

When Bilbo was gone, the girl pondered over what he had revealed. _I just can’t believe that this life is a dream world. It is too grey, too mundane, too cursed to be a dream world. It makes too much sense. …cursed. Cursed! What if I’m not just sleeping, but put under some kind of sleeping curse? Like a weird version of Sleeping Beauty? I should have asked Bilbo if I’m wearing a fancy blue ballgown. Of course, there has to have been meddled with me to sleep for God knows how many years… but then why do I only remember living for (Y/Age) years, if I have been under this curse for far longer? Maybe that’s part of the curse… maybe the curse is that I’ll always remain a student with a panic disorder! Fuck. I need answers._

The girl then put on her boots and coat and cycled to the city centre, to the place where she had met Bofur all those weeks ago. There she continued on foot, trying to replay that day in her head, following her own long-faded footsteps. To her surprise, she didn’t get lost once, and pretty soon she was standing before the green door. Number 14. Her heart beat in her throat, but she gathered all her courage and rang the doorbell.

She half expected a complete stranger to open the door, still somewhat convinced that her mind was making it all up, but the man that opened the door was but all too familiar, and she felt a large part of her worries melt like snow before the sun as Gandalf’s twinkling eyes smiled down on her. “Gandalf,” she said as a sense of wonder came upon her. _This is actually happening! Is it?_ “Uhm, hi. I’m-“ “What you are, my lady,” Gandalf most rudely interrupted, “is _welcome_ ”. He opened the door further and mentioned for the girl to come inside.

She looked around as Gandalf showed her to the living room. It was a large house for one in the city centre, but still it had to be cramped with all of the Dwarves, Bilbo _and_ Gandalf. They were probably glad that half of them had headed back.

The living room was filled with comfy sofa’s, and the girl immediately felt at home. Two steaming mugs of tea already stood on a table, and she and Gandalf sat down facing each other. “I assume you have come here to get answers to your questions,” Gandalf said. “Though normally I hate asking questions, I really need to have them answered this time,” the girl replied, “but knowing you, I fear I will not get any, and gain more questions besides.” Gandalf chuckled at that, but studied her with an intense gaze. “Ah, do not think too harshly of me,” he said, “I will try to answer your questions as well as I can. I think you have well deserved it by now. Please, ask away.”

“Alright,” the girl said, still a bit sceptical. “When Bilbo visited me earlier today, he told me that this world, my whole life, is a dream, and that I am actually in Middle Earth, locked in a hidden room in Erebor. Is that true?”

“I’m afraid it is. And I understand that you do not believe it.” It was not a question but a statement. “However, I must ask of you, if you do not believe it, then believe me. Believe _us_. If you trust us, then there may be hope for you yet.”

“I’m afraid that blindly trusting people isn’t my strong suit. Speaking of strong suits, I have built one by doing just the opposite. Why should I start doing it now?”

“Ah, but are you sure it is a strong suit? Look where it’s gotten you…”

The girl’s eyes hardened at that, and she folded her arms. “If you’re just going to offend me, I might as well leave!”

“No, I’m sorry,” Gandalf said, “I didn’t mean it like that. My age often gets the best of me; when you’re old, you think you know people better than you actually do, and you need to be reminded that people will always surprise you. What I meant to say was, if you do choose to put your trust in us, then we will make sure it is not broken. Additionally, I have some proof which might just help you believe!” As the twinkle in his eyes returned, he called Ori, who came stumbling down the stairs, a notebook in his hands. He looked at the girl, a bit wide-eyed, then turned to Gandalf.

“Why don’t you show her your handiwork, Ori?” Gandalf told him, then looked at the girl and explained: “When we found you, Ori documented our discovery in his drawings.”

Ori sat next to her, and said: “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Are you ready to see this?”

“Sure, bring it on,” the girl said. She still wasn’t convinced, and she doubted that whatever he would show her would change her mind.

Ori opened his notebook then, and she looked at the first drawing. It was a full-body charcoal drawing of someone lying on top of a sort of stone altar/table-ish thing. It was basically a stone cube rising from the ground, with strange runes glowing on its sides. On it lay a girl, beautifully dressed in a long gown that reached to her feet, covering them. It was beautifully done. The figure on the stone table did resemble the girl, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. “So that’s supposed to be me, right?” the girl asked Ori. He confirmed. “But I have more,” he said, and turned the page.

And then she was looking straight at her own face. There were no doubts about it. The grey-faced girl on the paper had her eyes closed, her features in a peaceful expression. Her dark hair lay spread out in a fan-shape around her head. On her head rested a silver tiara with gems set in it. The girl looked at the drawing for a while, and noticed that the face was a little bit more gaunt than what she usually saw in the mirror. Conflicted, she sighed.

“Well, that _is_ me, for sure,” she said, “but… I mean, it’s just a drawing… you could’ve seen me anywhere and drawn me like this… I don’t want to offend you or anything, Ori, but this is not really hard proof.”

“I understand,” Ori replied, looking me straight in the eye with his big brown ones. “However, you seem to know us… at least our names. I don’t know how much you know, but do you really think I would draw all this and then lie to you about it? I’m not that kind of person, and you should know that.” An awkward silence fell. “Just try to have a little faith, even if it’s hard. We’ve never done anything bad to you, have we?”

“You’re right, Ori,” the girl replied. “You haven’t done anything to hurt me… yet. But trust simply doesn’t come naturally to me. And if I believe you… it means that my whole life is a lie. Shitty though it is, that is a hard truth to accept. So I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need more than drawings to believe you.”

Without saying anything, Ori sighed, shut his notebook, then left the room, looking dejected. The girl felt sorry for him, but she could not be convinced so easily. She looked at Gandalf then. She had thought of another question. “Gandalf. The runes, what do they mean? Bilbo mentioned them earlier… are they important?”

Gandalf pondered the question, taking the time to get his pipe from a pocket and clean it out. “The runes are part of the enchantment that put you in your sleep. They glow with a blue light of their own.”

“But what do they _mean_? _”_ the girl asked, not letting herself be swayed form her path. She felt like the runes were important, not only to the enchantment, but also to herself.

“I do not know. I’m not familiar with the language, which worries me a great deal, since I’m fluent in many a language. Know this though; whoever put them there, and placed the enchantment over you, is not a friend. He is -or was- not sympathetic to your cause.”

This made the girl think. “So I was put to sleep to prevent me from… something. Gandalf, I need to know. Is this world, this ‘dream’, a curse? Because it feels so real! But… it’s also really shitty. Which is exactly what it would be like if I was cursed, right?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I think I’m close… do not discard, however, that it might be the spellcaster who was in the right, and that he had good reason to do this. As neither of you are available to give an accurate account of what happened, it is futile to guess at what exactly preceded these events. We’ll just have to hope you are no danger to Erebor, or very dangerous in any other way.”

The girl thought about that for a moment. She hadn’t considered the possibility yet; however, she remembered nothing before the world she lived in now, doubted even that she ever existed in there, and maybe she had been an entirely different person back then. The thought made her skin crawl. What if she were _evil_ in her other life? It didn’t make much sense to her. Then again, few things did nowadays. She left the house more confused than she had ever felt before. Her very foundation had been ripped from under her feet.

* * *

That night, she slept badly. Her dreams were filled with darkness and unknown terrors. She woke up exhausted, and decided to take a free day. She needed a day of self-care, and to figure out what to do.

The girl was sure that the Dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf were the original people from Middle-Earth; somehow they had crossed realms to her world, absurd though it may be. They were too real, to convinced of themselves to be actors. Besides, what people would pull a prank this long and elaborate? It had to be real.

Then she thought again about her own situation. It was too weird what was happening to her; how she had longed for a break from her boring existence, yet now that things were finally happening to her, she liked it far less than she had anticipated. Wasn’t it always so, though? She had read Lord of the Rings; Frodo had been in the same boat, longing to venture out of the Shire into the great unknown, yet when his adventure was done, he had not enjoyed it.

The girl didn’t want to end up like Frodo. She always got sad when she thought about how his character had changed over the course of his adventure. How he had changed from a happy, energetic young lad to someone with scars all over him, always looking out of his eyes with a look of dread and sadness and despair. She didn’t want that. Then again, she realized, she had already kind of become like him. Living with a constant feeling of panic and anxiety, couldn’t it only get better?

She lay pondering about it all for some hours, but she got up around noon when she got too hungry. She ate breakfast and took a long shower, enjoying its warmth. When she was dressed, she paced around her room for a bit, not really knowing what to do. She felt her mood falter further as dark clouds gathered in her mind, and as she felt her chest constrict more and more with each breath she took. She stopped pacing and lay back down on her bed when the last of her energy faded away. She buried her face in her pillow, and despite the early hour she didn’t get up until the next day.

She woke up with a strange feeling of clarity. She had made her choice. She went back to number 14. “Gandalf,” she said, “can you take me home now?” And Gandalf smiled at her, but of course it wasn’t that easy. Nothing good had even been easy, and this time was no exception. He didn’t know how to wake her up. She had to do it herself. Only she could break her own curse.

So back home she went. She already knew the solution. The answer was obvious, after all. You put a curse on somebody, the person doesn’t know they’re cursed, so to prevent them from breaking the curse, you have to build in a failsafe. She felt enlightened in a way, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, enabling her to breathe more freely.

And then you woke up.


	2. Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not specify what race you are in middle earth, so choose the one you like best :)   
> This chapter is where the story really starts. It is a long one but I felt like everything that happens here belongs to the song, 'Warrior'.   
> As always, comments are welcome and thanks to the people that have left kudos here. You made my day!

The first thing you noticed was a cold, hard surface under your back. Then you felt how cold you were yourself, and that your bones ached as if you had laid in the same position for too long. You took a deep breath, and noticed that the air had a musty quality to it. As your sleepy brain cleared a bit, you remembered your dream. It had been a weird dream, and a long one, so much had happened… what had happened, exactly?

That moment, the whole thing came rushing back, and with a jolt you opened your eyes and bolted upright. You saw a dark, stone room illuminated with a dim blue light, which cast shadows on the various faces pointed at you. That was all you could make out before your vision faded away. “Whoa now, easy there,” you heard a voice say as someone touched your arm. You shook your head and blinked your eyes wildly, and slowly your vision came back. You looked at the person holding your shoulders. “Thank you, Bofur,” you said. His kind eyes smiled at you.

“Take it easy now, you’ve been through hell and back. You must be freezing cold, too. Bifur! Hand me those blankets!” He draped them over you and you instantly felt a lot better. As you looked around the room, you saw everyone you’d allowed to stay in your dream: Bifur, Bombur, Oín, Gloín, Ori, Nori, Dori and Gandalf.

“So lovely to finally meet you all,” you said. “My name… is (Y/N).” A smile then spread over your lips as you felt the final piece of the puzzle fall into place. You were back. You were yourself again. But most importantly, you were _somebody_ again. Though you only realized it now, the worst thing about living in the dream world had been having your identity robbed from you.

“And Gandalf, thank you so, so much. I couldn’t have done it without you. And if you all hadn’t been so kind to get me out of that…” you shuddered at the thought. “Well, let’s just say I’m in your debt.” With the intention of bowing to them, you got up, but the moment you let go of the stone slab your legs gave out under you. Luckily, Bofur was still holding you and caught you before you hit the ground, and Dori and Oín came rushing forward as well. “Wh… what’s wrong with me?” you asked.

Ori spoke up, then. “Well, you’ve been asleep for who knows how long… your muscles must have weakened from the long period of inactivity. It’s already a wonder you’re still alive!”

_Fuck. Just what I need, waking up after hundreds of years in a weak body that can’t even stand on its own. The universe must really hate me._

* * *

Your scream echoed around the room as you jolted upright. You didn’t remember your dream this time, and was glad for it. It had not been peaceful. You looked around; you were in the same hospital bed that you had fallen asleep in; you hadn’t been trying to sleep. On the contrary, you had tried with all your might to stay awake, terrified that you would wake up and find yourself back in the grey, mundane world that you had known and loathed. And that you would not be able to wake up this time. But after three days you hadn’t been able to fight the sleep anymore, no matter how hard you had tried.

You took a deep breath and took a moment to thank the Valar that you were still here, in Middle Earth, in a warm bed in one of the rooms in the hospital wing. It was a large room filled with beds lined up along the walls, and there were a lot of cupboards standing in a line in the middle of the room, back to back. You lay close to the entrance, which consisted of two large, soot-blackened wooden doors which were standing open, swung inwards.

Oín came hurrying in, then. “I heard a scream. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, just a nightmare….” you thought about his question. “I’m actually feeling fine,” you said, a bit surprised at it.

Oín nodded. “I will bring you some food; you must be starving. It ain’t healthy, thin as you are.”

You thanked Oín when he brought you a bowl of stew, and only then realized you were ravenous. You looked at your hands while eating; you couldn’t really get used to them, as they didn’t look like your hands. Instead, your spoon was clutched by skeletal, spidery-looking things, with a blue network of veins under a pale, almost transparent skin. As you moved them around, you could see every movement of every bone in detail. Your gaze wandered up to your wrists and forearms, which looked equally skeletal. You knew that if you lifted your blankets, which took an abnormal amount of effort, your legs looked as spindly as your wrists, the knees protruding grotesquely.

Nobody knew for how long you’d been under the curse, but it had been since before Smaug, so it had to be at least a hundred years. Apparently, even with magic that sustained your body, a hundred years of laying still and not eating wasn’t exactly healthy.

You looked like you were made of thin branches that could snap at the slightest impact, as if you were just an inch away from fading out of existence. The thought made you shudder. Anxious to get out of bed, you carefully sat upright and tried to stand. It took some effort, but you managed. You saw a clean pile of clothes next to your bed, and put them on. They were made of a fine quality, though they smelled a bit musty. The outfit consisted of a leather pair of pants with a woollen lining, warm socks and boots, a size too large but otherwise fine, and a thick woollen tunic and mantle. Their weight made it harder to keep standing, so you sat down again to rest your legs.

With nothing to do, you wondered what day it was, and what was happening outside the mountain. Had Bilbo brought the Arkenstone to Thranduíl yet? Had the war already started? No, that couldn’t be, because you had just seen Oín. Maybe they were still waiting for Daín’s troops? There was really no way to know from here.

At that moment, the door opened again. You looked up to see Balin walking toward you. Your face lit up. You had been anticipating talking to him. As he took a chair, he said: “Up and about already, I see?”

“Well, I’ve been lying down for much too long now,” you responded with a smile. “It’s really nice to finally meet you, Balin. My name is (Y/N).” You shook his hand. Balin looked at you critically, and you saw a bit of worry seep into his eyes. No doubt about the state of your body, and you could only imagine the way your face must look. You waited for him to speak, although you had so many questions already waiting to be asked. Yet at the same time, you wondered if anyone spending time with you would affect the timeline. It’s why you had been keeping to yourself as much as possible since you’d awoken. _Is he forsaking something crucial right now in order to meet me?_

“I have heard much about you, (Y/N), so I thought it wise to come see for myself which parts are true.”

“I understand,” you said, “and I will try to answer what questions you have. First, though, I have to know something important. What is happening outside Erebor? Did Bilbo… do the thing yet?”

Balin looked flabbergasted. “How do you know that? You were asleep in this room when that happened…”

“I will explain later, I promise. But I can’t yet. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Trust… miss (Y/N), I am not a suspicious person by far, but I only just met you and know nothing about you. We are in a precarious position, and one slip-up could mean the end of Erebor and ourselves. So tell me, how do I trust you?”

“I understand your situation, Balin. If it helps, do you remember stepping out of my dreamworld earlier than the others?”

“Yes, we did so at Bilbo’s suggestion.”

“It was I who told him to go. And to take you with him. I had really, really good reasons to send you back but I can’t tell you without… botching things up. I will tell you after the - when things have settled down. Then it will be safe to do so. In the meantime, if you’re not convinced, just keep in mind that I have no benefits in betraying you. I am alone and at your mercy, and I am also very weak. If I did anything bad, I could never defend myself against you. So believe me when I say it is in my best interest to speak the truth, and it is in your best interest to trust what I say.”

Balin pondered over your words for a minute. Finally, he said: “Okay, you have me convinced. For now, at least. In the meantime, we have a war to win. And it’s not looking good.”

You suddenly noticed how old he looked. It must be hard for him, with war on the doorstep while Thorin was mad with dragon sickness. You had to admit, you were scared too, and you already knew how it would end. The uncertainty had to be worse. You were glad to avoid it. And you couldn’t stop yourself from comforting him. “It will be alright, Balin. The Dwarven race is strong. You have survived worse odds. And Thorin, he is strong too. He is going to get out of it… he just needs some time.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). I only hope that you are right. But I’m afraid time is one of the many things we are short on these days.” At that, he stood up and walked away, leaving you pondering the situation. Best case scenario, you had about a week before the Battle of the Five Armies started. Worst case, it would be maybe three days, and you would still barely be able to stand. That meant you had to start training yourself as a madwoman. If you were going to save some asses, you would need to be able to walk, at least…

As the week slowly passed by, you started getting a little bit more healthy with each day. Your skin didn’t look as transparent anymore and a little bit of colour started showing in your face. You also didn’t feel cold all the time anymore, which you were very grateful for. You could walk the short distance between the hospital ward and the baths, and it was no longer an effort to lift your spoon while eating. All in all, you felt much better.

And not only physically. You had been paying attention to how you were feeling, and it was as if your anxiety had vanished. _Had that been part of the curse, as well? Will I actually be free from anxiety, have a normal brain again, never experience another panic attack again? It seems too good to be true. But then again, waking up at all seemed too good to be true, and yet here I am. In motherfucking Erebor._

As the war drew closer, you started worrying – healthy amounts, appropriate for someone who will be facing death and destruction on a grand scale. You also got less visits, and all the time to yourself made you mind start wandering, mulling things over endlessly. You knew for certain that with your knowledge of what was going to happen, you could not in good conscience sit by while Thorin, Fíli and Kíli got slaughtered.

You had to save them, somehow. But you couldn’t tell any of the others, for maybe that would change something, and then maybe someone else would die, or worse. You had to do it yourself, discreetly. But you were still very weak, despite your improvements, and you had no clue how you were going to survive on the battlefield, let alone saving three very important Dwarves. Still, you had to come up with a plan.

So the next day you pondered over a good strategy, the events that needed to happen and the events that needed to be prevented. But it seemed like every solution you thought of only brought more problems with it. What weapon would be light enough to carry all the way there and also had the ability to kill a large orc? A spear would be too heavy to throw, a sword, axe or hammer too heavy to carry… a bow would require muscles to pull the string, so that was out of the question as well. What did that leave? A sling wouldn’t be able to make a kill, plus it wasn’t accurate enough. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. It was time you paid a visit to the weaponry. Only you had no clue where it was.

You got up. Who to ask? Someone kind and naïve… your feet led you to the library, where you would undoubtedly find Ori. Your steps were muffled by the layer of ash from a thousand burned scrolls. The smell of fire and parchment permeated the air. The only sound was that of a quill scratching on paper, pausing every now and then to be dipped in an ink bottle.

Ori looked up as you approached him. He had been writing fervently, his small figure hunched over the papers. He looked nervous. Well, everyone did. It would probably be mere hours, maybe a day – you hadn’t seen a clock anywhere - before the war would break out. You wondered if you should say something about it, to ease his worries, but you knew nothing would help. So instead you asked the way to the weaponry.

“Why do you want to go there?” Ori asked.

You decided to play the scared weak girl card. It would be the most believable, given your current situation. And hey, let’s be honest: it wasn’t far from the truth. You were weak, even though you hated being it. And you were scared for the coming battle. You would most likely die. But you refused to be helpless. You would not go down without a fight, of that you were sure.

“Ori, I’m scared,” you said, letting your voice come out a few tones higher than normally. “I… I will feel safer if I have some sort of weapon with me. To protect myself. Just in case…” you let yourself trail off. You hated lying to Ori, but it was necessary, and for the good of everyone, including him.

“Of course, (Y/N), I understand,” he replied. “But you don’t need to go all the way there for it. I can bring you something right after I finish this.” He pointed at the scrolls lying in front of him.

“Oh, that’s very nice of you to offer, Ori, but I think I would like to go there. I’ve been in the hospital ward all week, and it would be nice to see something else for a change. I think I’m strong enough to walk a little further now, and… to be honest… I need some distraction. Any more time alone in bed and I think I might go mad.”

Ori’s eyes softened at that. He laid his quill down. “Of course, (Y/N),” he said. “I’ll show you there.”

The weaponry was a vast hall, every area filled with racks upon racks of gleaming steel. You looked around with open mouth. You could not have imagined it, had someone described it to you.

“What kind of weapon do you need?” Ori asked. “We have… literally everything, I think. Maybe best if you take something light and sharp, like a dagger or something. It will require less effort.”

He took a short, plain-looking dagger from a nearby rack and gave it to you. You gave it a swirl. It wasn’t the stuff of legends, but as long as it could stab, you didn’t have any complaints.

“Thank you, Ori. Is it okay if I look around for a bit? There’s so much… I have never even seen some of these weapons. It’s awesome!”

“I… do need to get back to the library. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Of course! I’ll try not to break anything. Or try not to let anything break _me_ , which is probably more likely,” you added with a wink.

When Ori left the weaponry, you could finally do what you came here for. You walked past racks upon racks upon racks, filled with all kinds of sharp-looking tools. You genuinely did your best not to touch anything. You might accidentally kill yourself in one moment of absent-mindedness.

After some time, you came upon a section filled with various kinds of knives. Though tarnished with age, they still looked deadly enough to kill an orc. You inspected one up close. It had a slightly curved, double-edged blade, which was about thrice as long as the handle. You took it, and it fit your hand well, but it was surprisingly heavy. You knew immediately that you would not be able to throw it further than two metres.

Disappointed, you put it back in its holder. Then, suddenly, a voice made you jump. “I see you’ve an eye for quality.” You turned to your right, where the sound had come from. Deep blue eyes met yours. A mischievous twinkle was in them. They were framed by a wild mane of blond hair. His lips were quirked up in a grin. He looked even more handsome in real life than on screen.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m (Y/N),” you said, and you shook hands.

“Fíli. Nice to meet you,” he responded. You were glad for the semi-darkness of the room, hoping it would conceal your gaunt features. You tended to be self-conscious around beautiful people. “So,” he went on. “Was it not to your liking?” He pointed at the knife you had just hung back.

“It was too heavy,” you said. “It appears that decades of doing literally nothing is not too good for your muscles. I wouldn’t recommend it,” you quipped. Fíli laughed at that.

“That dagger you’re holding is not much lighter, though.”

“Oh, it’s only meant as a last resort. Ori gave it to me.” you hesitated. “I’m… looking for something to throw. If something manages to come at me, I don’t want to have to stand and wait until it’s close enough to stab. But I’m afraid that I’m not really in a good shape to throw anything very far.”

“I understand,” said Fíli. “Fortunately, I think we have just the thing for you!” He walked a few racks further. You followed him. You noticed that your legs were getting tired, and your breath was becoming more laboured. You tried to conceal it as well as you could. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

Fíli stopped in front of some weird-looking shapes with a triumphant expression. You had no clue what to make of it. “What are they?” you asked.

“These are knife-throwers. They are meant to increase the throwing range and speed. It makes throwing a knife much easier.” He took one of the things off the wall, and you noticed it could fold out, as Fíli demonstrated. “There are special knives that go in here,” he said as he pointed to a slot in the second part of the knife-thrower.

He then reached into a crate and carefully took out a small object. On closer inspection, you saw that it was a small knife without a handle. It looked rather like a spearhead. “Careful with these,” Fíli said. “They are still razor-sharp.” He showed you how to put them in the slot, and demonstrated how to operate the knife-thrower. At that point, you were too focused on absorbing this essential information for surviving that you forgot to feel self-conscious.

When you had gotten the hang of it, you thanked him. “You might have just saved my life in the future,” you said with a smile. “Maybe one day I’ll return the favour.” You wanted to talk more, but your legs were getting more wobbly by the minute, and since you’d rather fight an orc than collapse in front of him, you made your way out of the weaponry without any further ado.

Back at the hospital ward, you stashed your weapons in the bedside cabinet and rested for a while, crawling deep under the blankets to let the chill seep from your bones. You woke somewhere during the night. Ori was standing at your bedside. He looked terrified. “What’s wrong?” you mumbled, confused.

“A messenger from the Elves came to the gate a while ago,” Ori said. “They will be making their move at dawn.”

It took a while for the words to register, but when they did you bolted upright. “At dawn?” you exclaimed. “How many hours?”

“Four.”

You sank back in the cushions as you watched Ori leave. Four hours until the war would start. The orc armies would arrive later, maybe about an hour after, if you were lucky. You really hoped you were. Nevertheless, you would have to sneak your way up to Ravenhill before the battle would erupt. You prayed to the Valar (since God was of no use here) you would have enough time.

The first task on your list was armour. You couldn’t wear steel armour like the Dwarves did, you would collapse under its weight alone. But you could wear hardened leather to stop stray arrows in your way, and a leather cap to soften potential blows to the head. You quickly headed to the armoury, which you had seen was next to the weaponry. You found a leather pair of breeches, a jerkin and a long coat. They were stiff with age, but they fit more or less. Unfortunately, all the caps you could find were way too big for your head and kept sliding over your eyes.

After you’d put on the outfit, your eye fell on a big crate filled with leather gloves, enforced with steel rings on the knuckles. After a bit of searching, you found a smaller pair that were only slightly too large.

Time to go back to the hospital. You didn’t worry about encountering any Dwarves, though they would surely lock you up if they saw you wearing armour. They would never let you go into battle. But you knew that they would be too busy being frustrated with gold-sick Thorin and preparing for battle than walking around the halls.

It had taken more time than you had wanted to find your armour, but without a clock at hand it was impossible to know how much time you had spent already. Well, no choice but to move on. Next on your list was weapon practice. You could do it in some far corner of the library, and use a bookcase as target. Nobody would be there.

You took your knife-thrower and a pouch filled with the small throwing knives, and set out once more. As you expected, the library was empty when you carefully looked around the corner. You found a bookcase that was more or less intact, with a scorch mark at eye-level. That would be your target. You walked about 10 metres away from it, then turned around to face it.

The knife-thrower felt weirdly heavy in your hand, and you held it clumsily. You only had Fíli’s short demonstration to go on. You lifted it up, bringing it behind your ear, then you swung your arm above your head to release the knife.

It disappeared somewhere in the darkness, missing the scorch mark by a good meter. Well, you didn’t expect it to hit the mark perfectly on the first try, anyway. You were already glad that it got so far, instead of hitting the ground before it would even reach the bookcase like you had feared. You put another knife in the slot and gripped the thrower a bit differently. You tried a few more times with varying success, trying out different positions, grips and angles.

Finally, a hollow _thud_ echoed across the room as the knife hit the wood. It was lower than you had intended, but by far the best shot of the past quarter hour. It would take some time to retrieve all the knives. Holding on to this position, you practised some more, and you managed to hit the mark a fair amount of times. Now that you were doing it properly, you were surprised at the accuracy of the weapon, while also boosting the speed of the knives. It was a perfect weapon for your weakened body, and as you got better at shooting you also felt better about the Dwarves’ chances of survival. So many things could still go wrong, of course, but now the chance of success had increased.

When your arm got too tired to go on (you also had to save some energy for the battle) you stopped practising, happy with the progress you’d made. You collected most of the knives that had missed the mark, recovered your armour from under your bed and stuffed it in a bag, then set out to the gates. It seemed luck was on your side; the Dwarves had all gone to the armoury to prepare for the coming battle. You were very glad about that; your plan hadn’t really gone much farther than ‘save everyone who shouldn’t die’. And your lucky streak did not end there; you were way too weak to scale the barricade, but you found out that you were thin enough to slip through the holes in it. They were too small for any Dwarf to fit through, but your stick-like body, with a bit of wiggling, eventually managed to slip through.

You set off for the camp of the people of Lake-town in Dale. You hoped you would be able to walk in without much difficulty, as were looking quite insignificant. And indeed, with their focus on the battle, the watchmen didn’t ask too many questions, encouraged by your very convincing helpless-dumb-girl façade; “Oh I’m so sorry, I got myself lost again, this city is just so confusing I keep getting lost,” you added some giggles for good measure.

You were quickly ushered to the city centre to be locked inside with the rest of the women and children. You didn’t protest; you would be safe there until the heat of the battle, and then you would have enough time to reach the Dwarves in distress. It also allowed you to rest for a bit; the journey to Dale had tired you out more than you cared to admit.

You walked through the doors and sat down in a quiet, remote corner, trying to put on your armour as discreetly as possible. When you had succeeded, you were just glad to rest your legs. And it was in that dark, cold hall that you were forced to think about your situation, having nothing to do and nobody to speak to. Your emotions finally caught up to your actions, and it was then that the fear really started creeping in _. After all, what am I? Just a weakling. I can barely lift my legs even now. How will I ever cross a battlefield unscathed in my condition?_

You looked around as if the answer would be written on the damp, crumbling walls of the hall. Of course nothing here could help you. The room was now filled with the smell of too many human bodies packed without ventilation, and the noise of crying and screaming children filled the air. You had never liked children, but that moment you really hated them. Couldn’t they just shut up?

And then you realized it. You were in a cold, creepy, foreign room, bustling with people and sounds, and you were waiting to go into battle with a huge responsibility on your shoulders. And you did not have a panic attack. Your panic disorder had been part of the nightmare! You were actually… mentally stable.

Over the moon with this discovery, your mood was greatly improved despite the cold creeping in your limbs. You started shivering more and more violently as time passed. At some point, not looking at your shaking knees for once, you saw Sigrid approach the lady that gave out blankets. “Miss, could I please have a blanket? I’m really cold,” she said. You rolled your eyes at the whiny tone of her voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, but we don’t have that many of ‘em, so they are meant for the weak and the very young only,” the blanket lady replied.

“But I’m cold!” Sigrid said, as if she couldn’t really believe that something had been denied her.

“Well I’m sorry dear, but these are really needed for the weaker among us.”

“If the weak are _so_ cold, then why haven’t they all come to get one already?”

At that moment, you’d had enough. “Sigrid!” you said in a loud voice, and she looked at you, still confused that she couldn’t immediately get what she asked for. “You are young and healthy. You’ll survive a bit of cold. Leave the blankets to the babies and the sick. We can’t be selfish in these times.”

“As if _you’re_ one to talk,” Sigrid retorted lamely.

“Do you see me whining for blankets instead of leaving them for the people who are _literally dying_ of cold?”

Finally, with an indignant look, she turned around and strode back to her sister. She complained about the stains on the floor before sitting down. The blanket lady shot you a grateful look. _The movies never showed that Bard spoiled his daughter so much,_ you thought. You were glad you wouldn’t have to deal with her again.

A few hours later, at long last, the women finally riled up. They were sick and tired of sitting safely while their husbands and fathers were out fighting for their lives. The doors were opened. With a fierce cry, you stormed out into the daylight with the rest, but couldn’t help noticing how Sigrid stayed seated where she was. She grabbed Tilda’s arm when she tried to run off with the rest of the women, but Bain was too quick and ran off, looking back over his shoulder at her with a look that could kill.

Your heart was beating heavily in your throat. All you could think was _I need to get to the princes. I need to get there in time. How do I get to the princes?_ But it seemed luck was on your side once more. Turning into a side alley to catch your breath, you saw a mountain goat. It looked a bit lost, bleating to no one in particular. You approached it gently, and let it sniff your hand. It seemed to take a liking to you, giving your arm a soft headbutt. You chuckled. “Alright then,” you said to it. “Let’s see if I can get on your back without you throwing me off. Will you be nice?”

The goat bleated softly, almost as if to reassure you. Valar knew you needed a bit of reassurance. With some difficulty, you managed to get on its back. You took it as a good sign when it didn’t throw you off immediately. And then, taking your time was no longer possible. A horde of orcs rounded the corner and headed straight for you! You spurred the goat on as hard as you could and clung on for dear life, black arrows whizzing terrifyingly close to your head.

You knew how to ride a horse, but this was a lot bumpier and the goat felt surprisingly big between your legs, making it hard to get a good grip on it with your legs. Suffice to say, you were very surprised, but mostly relieved, when you remained seated and finally lost the orcs behind you. A short while later you made your way out of Dale.

Looking around, you spotted the Orc’s signalling structure on top of Ravenhill. It already looked deserted, which meant you didn’t have much time left, if any. You spurred your goat on even harder. “Come on, friend,” you told it, “We’re going to save your royal family! If there’s any more speed in you, I need you to use it!”

The goat flew over the ground then, and there were a few close calls where you almost ended up bruised and battered on the ground. But you didn’t. Yet. You still had a very steep hill to climb, something that would probably not be easy for your first goat-ride ever. However, your fears appeared ungrounded as the goat climbed up with surprising agility, and you found it was actually easier to remain seated on the steep ledges than when it had been running over flat ground.

At long last the two of you reached the top, right were the command tower stood. As you neared it, you saw some figures appear at the top. Your heart skipped a beat. They already had Fíli! You had to do something _now_ , or he would fall down and… _No,_ you thought sternly to yourself. _No time for doom scenarios now. You need to save Fíli. Think straight!_

As Azog hoisted Fíli up in triumph, you fumbled with the knife thrower, your fingers suddenly clumsy and shaky. It took you way longer to ready it than it should have, or maybe it was just because your brain was going at lightning speed by now. But there was no time left to fret about that. Azog raised his weapon. Time was up. You aimed for his eyes instead of his chest, afraid to hit Fíli by accident, and let the knife fly.

Suddenly, it was like you viewed everything in slow motion. The knife shooting from the thrower in your hand, making its way up, up, up, but would it make it all the way? Had you used enough strength? Would it hit its target?

It got closer to Azog, then, and you knew in that moment that you had missed. The knife had gone too far to the left, it didn’t even come close to his head. When all hope was squeezed from you like water from a wet sponge, Azog raised his arm a little bit further, to gain strength for the final blow that would kill Erebor’s crown prince. But his weapon never met Fíli’s chest. Instead, it fell to the ground. Black fluid oozed from Azog’s arm. Your knife had hit him after all. Not where you’d aimed, but it had saved Fíli’s life anyway.

He had only seconds before Azog would recover from the initial shock, or another orc up there would get him. He was cornered up there, he could not go back the way he came. You filled your lungs with air. “FÍLI, JUMP!” you screamed as loud as you could. Kíli, who was standing right below, jumped out from under the building, trying to soften Fíli’s fall before he hit the ground. Together they fell on the ground, hard, but a few agonizing seconds later they both stood up and ran for their lives as a rain of arrows descended on them. Bolg and Azog disappeared from the plateau, and reappeared a short while later at the bottom of the tower. Bolg chased after the two princes while Azog made for Thorin.

Fíli and Kíli had each other now. They stood a fine chance against Bolg, especially since Tauriel would join them soon enough. That meant you needed to be here for Thorin. You had some minutes to do it, so you turned to cautiously make your way to the ice. However, as soon as you reached the frozen lake, your legs gave out from under you. The violent goat ride had taken more of your energy than you had realized. But you _had_ to save Thorin! You couldn’t give up now. Neither exhaustion nor the freezing cold creeping up your limbs would stop you.

You tried to stand up, but after taking a few steps you collapsed again. It was no use. You cursed your wobbly, useless legs. How far were they? You looked over and saw Thorin and Azog circling each other, less than 20 metres away. You were so close, and yet so far away… But still, giving up was not an option. It simply didn’t occur to you. So you pushed your hands against the ground, and stood up for the second time, your legs shaking violently. One step, and another, and another… and then you fell down a third time. Your legs ached like never before and your cheeks were wet with tears of frustration.

But it wasn’t over yet. You looked up at Thorin, just in time to see Azog disappear under the ice. You tried to shout at Thorin, HE’S ALIVE!, but you were panting so hard you could barely utter anything. _Well, if I can’t walk, then I’ll crawl there,_ you thought. _I have never actually met Thorin, but I will gladly give my life for his. He’s loved, and respected, and a great king to his people, and I am nobody. No-one even knows me here. Anyone who used to know me has long since died._

You grabbed the nearest ridge in the ice and used it as a handhold to pull your body along. Then you used the same protrusion with your foot, crawling forward another half meter. It was the hardest thing you ever did, the cold of the ice now invading your entire body. But still you kept going. You didn’t know how much time had passed, how many meters you had moved, when you heard Thorin’s agonizing scream. You looked up, afraid you were too late, but it was only his foot that was skewered.

You looked on as Azog jumped up from under the ice, and their fighting resumed. You crawled over the ice twice as fast as before, the energy was simply there for you out of necessity. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Azog and Thorin, afraid that you’d miss that crucial point and all would be in vain. You notched another knife on the knife thrower to be prepared, not wanting to cut it as close as you had with Fíli.

You were halfway across the ice when it happened. One moment, you were looking at Thorin and Azog fighting, the next you only saw Azog’s back, which was turned to you. He loomed over Thorin’s fallen body. You sat up on your knees, not trusting your legs enough to stand up, and took aim. Despite your exhaustion, you saw your target very clearly, and aimed straight for his back.

The first shot missed. It flew harmless a past Azog’s head, a foot above and next to what you’d been aiming for. Panic shot through you, and you clumsily notched another knife, the feeling long since gone from your fingers. You knew you had mere seconds left to save Thorin’s life, so this time you didn’t even aim but threw the knife with all the strength left in you.

The bloodcurdling scream that ripped the air filled your stomach with icy shards. You had missed, again. The knife had not killed the one thing you needed to kill, only maimed. It had landed too low. You didn’t see where the knife had landed at first, but a spurt of black Orc blood showed where it had landed, staining the left side of Azog’s loincloth. You screamed as your failure closed its claws around your heart, but it was cut short the next second. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Suddenly, Azog had doubled over, straight onto Orcrist’s pointy end. Another gush of blood pooled like ink on the pale skin of his back, and dripped down steaming on the ice. Azog slumped aside, slowly falling down, already dead before his body hit the cold, frozen surface. And in his place stood Thorin.

He pulled Orcrist from the pale remains, slowly, almost as if he expected Azog to surprise him once more. But the Defiler would never make another move.

And then it all became too much for you. The cold had made your limbs numb, and you were shivering violently, and your muscles were so very tired, and _you_ were so very tired. You slumped aside, mirroring Azog himself in his final moments, and your head hit the ice. It hurt, but it was so nice to finally lie down, to finally… close your eyes…

Of course, you were not allowed to rest. You had just saved the royal family of Erebor, but no, a bit of rest was too much to ask of the universe. Thorin was kneeling next to you, and he lifted your body off the ice and against his, trying to give you as much warmth as he could. It was nice, to finally feel a bit of warmth. He was saying things to you, and looking very concerned, but you couldn’t make out the words. You wouldn’t have been able to say anything in return, anyway, your teeth were chattering too much.

And then Bilbo was there, and he was crying, and he tried to hug both of you at the same time, ending up awkwardly splayed over you two. You didn’t mind. There was now a warm body on both sides of you, and you closed your eyes contentedly. And didn’t open them again for a few days.

* * *

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was a heavy weight on top of you. You took a deep breath, savouring the fresh air, and blinked your eyes open. A big mound of furs was piled on top of you. It was nice and warm, and it felt just like a big hug. A smile appeared on your face. You looked around the tent; because that was what you were in, and you were lying on a bed. Something that looked like a first-aid kit and some other medical-looking things were set up at the other side. A chair stood next to your bed, but it was empty.

Before you could wonder how you got here and what had happened since Ravenhill, you were suddenly subject to a violent sneezing episode. And your nose started to leak like a faucet. Very luckily somebody had foreseen this, because there was a pile of clean handkerchiefs on a table at the side opposite to where the chair was. You were just using one when a Dwarf entered the tent. The sun was shining brightly outside, so you could only see who it was when the entrance fell closed again.

Of course it was Oín, and his face was a mixture of happiness and concern. “Ah good, you’re finally awake,” he said. “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?”

“Hello, Oín,” you replied. “I’m… quite cold, and I _have_ a cold, I think, my throat hurts, and my head…” you realised then that it wasn’t a headache, but it felt like you had a wound on your skull. Your hand shot up, and was met with a bump the size of a small egg. You winced. Where had that come from? You didn’t have time to wonder, for Oín had already pushed a concoction of sorts into your hands, telling you to drink the entire thing. You complied, and to your surprise it actually didn’t taste that bad.

“How long have I been asleep? And how did I get here? And… where _is_ here?”

“You’ve been asleep for almost two days now. You needed the rest to regain some strength and energy. I’m afraid you pushed yourself too far, your body couldn’t handle it. After you passed out, one of the eagles was so kind to drop you and Thorin off in Dain’s camp. You are now in one of the many tents reserved for the injured. Does that answer your questions?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m just… trying to remember what happened, exactly.”

Oín sat down on the chair next to me, a frown on his face. “What’s the last thing you remember from before you passed out?”

“Let’s see… I was in Dale, I had hidden myself among the women… then we broke out to fight. I found a mountain goat! And…” you strained to remember, it was getting a bit hazy now. “And I went to Ravenhill, because I needed to- Fíli and Kíli!” you suddenly exclaimed. “Are they okay?”

Oín smiled, then. “They are fine, they just have some cuts and bruises like everyone else. Nothing to worry about.”

You sighed in relief. “That’s great! That’s… it’s great to hear.” You blew your nose in the handkerchief before you resumed your recollection. “Okay, so I went to Ravenhill, and I saw Azog about to try and kill Fíli, so I threw a knife at him. Fíli escaped together with Kíli. And then I saw that Thorin was alone and Azog was heading for him… so I went to the ice.” Your recollection got a bit hazy then, as if you were trying to remember a dream. As the story progressed though, more and more memories returned to you. “I threw another knife at Azog, wounding him and allowing Thorin to give him the final blow. He killed him,” you ended with a smile on your face. “How is he doing, by the way? Is he okay?”

“Thorin, like Fíli and Kíli, suffered some injuries, but nothing life-threatening. He is already up and about, even though he should be resting,” Oín added rolling his eyes. You chuckled. You had expected nothing less from the King under the Mountain. You opened your mouth to ask after the rest of the company, but Oín had resumed talking.

“Actually,” he said, “he’s visited you a couple times, and told me to let him know immediately as soon as you’d wake up. I will do that now, but remember, if you don’t feel up to it I will keep him away from you as well as I can.”

In truth, you started feeling more sick with each minute that passed, but you simply couldn’t refuse Thorin Oakenshield. Plus, the thought of him wanting to talk to you gave you so much stress that you just wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. Would he want to murder you or thank you? One never could tell with him. So you told Oín to get him, which he did after giving you a bowl of rich stew, and when you were left alone you concentrated on your body, assessing the damage.

You didn’t have a lot of wounds as far as you could sense – miraculously – but whenever you tried to move anything, every muscle involved would protest. Yesterday, or rather, three days ago, had turned out to be the most thorough workout you’d ever done. But your muscles didn’t bother you overmuch if you just lay still, as opposed to the (soon to be) very bad cold; your head and throat hurt, your eyes were dry, and you were shivering despite the many thick furs you were buried under. As if that wasn’t enough, you felt your stomach protesting loudly against the food you were putting in it. But you knew you needed to eat in your state, so you downed it all. It did feel nice to have something warm inside you, but it was balanced out by the nausea.

A few minutes later – or maybe longer, you weren’t sure as you’d started to nod off – Oín returned with Thorin. You would have stood to bow, if you’d had the strength. As it was, you really didn’t want to embarrass yourself so you stayed where you were, choosing instead to incline your head respectfully. Realising you didn’t have a clue how to greet him, you just said the first thing on your mind.

“Your Majesty.” And you actually meant it; even despite the cuts, bruises, bandages and crutches, Thorin still managed to look majestic. You had no clue how he did it, but the air of kingliness was unmistakable. You suddenly felt very self-conscious again; you had to look like a breathing corpse in your state.

He sat down on the chair next to you and you kept your gaze down, waiting for him to speak.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he said in his deep voice. “Good to see you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

You thought about the question. Right now, your mental state was the only thing about you that wasn’t a pile of misery. And you didn’t like people thinking of you as a weakling. So you were determined not to show any weakness. Not whine about things you couldn’t change. But of course, you couldn’t lie either. So you went for the truth.

“I’m… just glad to be alive, honestly.” you risked looking at him then, and your eyes met his blue ones. You had expected him to look haughty, or maybe a bit disgusted by your frailty, but you could only see concern, and maybe something else that you couldn’t quite place. You relaxed a bit.

“Me too. Something which I have _you_ to thank for,” said Thorin. “Not to speak of Fíli and Kíli. You managed to save the line of Durin,” he added with a quirk of his lips, looking at you as if trying to solve a puzzle. “I – _we_ will be forever in your debt for that. But if I can repay you only a little bit, please, name anything and it will be yours.”

If you weren’t so deathly pale, you would have flushed to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t deserve all the gratefulness. After all, all you’d done was graze Azog, just helping Fíli and Thorin a little bit. It was them who had saved themselves afterward.

“I didn’t… I mean, I… I just did what anyone would have done. I was just in the right place at the right time. And I barely did anything – just made Azog bleed a little, is all. I didn’t hit anything I was aiming for, it was just luck I hit him at all, and-“ Thorin cut you short with one motion of his hand. “If it weren’t for you, (Y/N), the two of us would be dead by now. And who knows what reckless deeds Kíli would have done without his brother to guard his back. No, I’m very sure that your actions were what saved us.”

Well, it had been foolish to think you could change his mind – we were talking about the King under the Mountain here. “So I’ll say this again,” Thorin resumed, “I’ll never be able to repay my debt to you. But name anything – _anything –_ and it is yours. Gold, jewels, clothes, servants…”

You frowned at that. “No, I… I don’t need any of that. I’m fine, really, I’m… not that superficial,” you finished lamely, hoping you hadn’t insulted him. You hastened to add: “Of course, I’m sure the treasure of Erebor is beautiful beyond compare, but-“ Thorin interrupted you. “It’s okay, no offense was taken. In fact, I’m actually glad. Greed is not something I look upon with kindness. Especially not after the events of the past week. But if there is anything you want for, do not hesitate to ask.”

You thought for a bit. “For now, all I need is a place to stay, after I’ve healed. To get stronger. And maybe to figure out what to do after that,” you said.

“Of course. You will always have a home in Erebor, but that goes without saying,” Thorin replied. “And it is by far not enough compensation for your deeds.”

But in that moment, you really couldn’t come up with anything that would be enough for Thorin. “Well, at least think about it?” Thorin asked, and you said you would.

He left the tent. “Oín?” you called. He walked over. “Do you have any empty bedpans in here?”

A curious look on his face, he gave you one, but you didn’t have time to explain. You doubled over and vomited.

The next day had you feeling even worse. You hadn’t thought it possible, yet there you were, shivering violently one second, the next you were throwing off your blankets, sweat beading on your forehead. Your head and stomach were killing you despite the painkillers Oín kept giving you. Nor could you keep in any food that you ate. That was what worried you most – and you couldn’t help noticing a concerned look in Oín’s eyes, too. You really couldn’t afford to lose any more weight.

Somewhere during the morning, Oín asked you if you were feeling up for visitors, telling you that Fíli and Kíli had been pestering him about coming to see you. You’d agreed then, glad to have some distraction. But by the time they’d come in, it was past noon, and the fever had really started to kick in. It was like you’d used some sort of heavy drug – reality seemed weirdly warped, and you couldn’t really trust your eyes, and your ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton wool.

You didn’t even recognize them at first; their features kept shifting somehow, changing in size and colour and moving around their faces. When they started talking, it was as if there were two walls and a ceiling between us; you heard some mumbling, but could never make out the words, no matter how much you tried to focus.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, or what had happened in it, but looking at the shifting features on the princes’ faces made you dizzy and in the end you doubled over and threw up yet again. As soon as you positioned your head above the bedpan next to your bed, you felt calloused fingers in your neck, gathering your hair and holding it back as you emptied the meagre contents of your stomach.

The delusions lasted for three days, or so you were told afterward. You don’t remember much from it now – or, not much that makes sense. Most of the time, you just lay in bed, as miserable as it gets. Sometimes there was someone by your side – you couldn’t interact with them, it felt as if you were living in a different dimension. They could never really reach you. Sometimes people touched you; a hand on your forehead, rough fingers holding your hand ever so carefully, a brush through your hair. You savoured those moments and the warmth they brought.

Maybe it was those things that got you through the sickness, maybe it was something else. Maybe you did it all by yourself. The important thing, however, is that you _survived._ You kept fighting through it, never once giving up. You had stepped out of one life, getting a second chance, and you would be damned if you let this one slip through your fingers.

So imagine your relief that morning, slowly waking from a deep slumber, when you finally felt really awake, as if a veil had been lifted between you and the rest of the world. A hand was holding yours, and it felt pleasantly warm, and you heard voices softly talking next to you, and you could actually understand what they were saying. You opened your eyes and saw that Fíli and Kíli were sitting next to you. They had been talking about repairs in some mine in Erebor, but stopped abruptly when they saw you looking at them.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Kíli said, and Fíli added, “How are you feeling?” He was the one who’d been holding your hand, and he gingerly laid it back. You did your best not to pout. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” you said with a smile. “…I’m really hungry, though.”

Kíli chuckled at that. “I can imagine,” he replied. He stood up and walked out of the tent. You just assumed he was going to get food. You hoped so. You turned to Fíli. “I was really far gone, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. We were all… quite worried. We didn’t think you’d… make it.”

It was clear he was having a hard time forming proper sentences, not being used to such serious conversations. But you didn’t care. You were glad to have somebody by your side. Really glad to have somebody _caring_ ; you saw the concern in his eyes.

You smiled up at him. “Don’t worry. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

He chuckled, and you were glad to see a bit of the mischievous gleam return to his eyes. “That’s a relief to hear. Mum would kill us all if she found out we’d let you slip away before she could hug you to death herself.”

“I look forward to it,” you retorted.

Kíli re-entered the tent with the announcement, “Food!” and you had never been so happy to see anyone. You waited patiently for them to prop you up against a stack of pillows so you could eat properly. In the blink of an eye you had emptied the bowl of stew, and was relieved when it stayed inside you.

“So we actually didn’t come here just to annoy you,” Kíli said. You pulled up an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Seriously! We haven’t really had a chance to thank you yet. I don’t suppose we would be sitting here without you. So thank you.”

Fíli added: “If you ever need anything, we’ll be there for you.”

Flustered by their words and their intense gazes you cast your eyes down, suddenly very interested in your nails. “Please,” you said, “I just did what anyone would’ve done. I didn’t even think about it.” Of course, you didn’t tell them about the careful planning it had involved.

“Yeah, but you still _did it_ , and that’s what matters!” Kíli retorted.

“Okay, I’ll accept your thanks,” you said with a smile. “But let’s just leave it there. Your uncle has already drilled me about being indebted and what not, so I’ll have none of that. I didn’t save your asses to make a profit.”

They chuckled at that, and thankfully they indeed left the topic for what it was. “Can I just say, though,” Kíli piped up, “I do _not_ understand how nobody is talking about this, because it’s hilarious. You shot Azog in the buttock!”

And after a few seconds of stunned realization, you burst out laughing. Not really thinking about what you were saying, and immediately regretting it, you said: “it’s the only acceptable way to penetrate orc ass.”

Now it was their turn for shocked silence, and you wanted for the ground to swallow you whole, but then they burst out laughing, and in the end Oín had to send them away because they were too loud. They were still snickering when they exited, and you were left with a silly grin on your face.

* * *

It took you three full weeks to get back on your feet, but you couldn’t complain. The whole company had visited you by then, all showing their concern for you and their gratefulness for saving the royal fuck-ups. Even Dwalin stopped by, a day after Fíli and Kíli’s visit, thanking you for being there for Thorin, Fíli and Kíli by extension where he had failed. Ori and Bilbo visited you most often, as you’d already gotten to know them a bit in the week that led up to the battle. And of course Oín was around a lot, and you got to know him a lot better in those days.

But there was also something nagging at you. In those weeks, you had a lot of time to think about things, and there were many things that you needed time for to think about. Two weeks in your turmoil you knew you had to talk about it with someone. Luckily, the opportunity presented itself in the form of Fíli walking in.

You smiled up at him as he entered. “Hey Fíli,” you greeted him, “Where’s Kíli?”

“He’s keeping uncle company. Trying to keep him in bed. I don’t think he’ll be very successful; uncle seems really bent on ruining what’s left of his foot.” You chuckled. “So, how are you feeling today?” Fíli asked while flopping down on the chair.

“I’m feeling really good,” you said. “Actually, I was just thinking about how bored I am. I think I’d like to walk around for a bit but… I’m uncomfortable doing it on my own the first time. Could you… maybe lend me a hand?” A blush crept to your cheeks. You were ashamed; though you had accepted your weak state by now, it was still humiliating needing help for something as mundane as walking.

“Of course,” Fíli said. You sat up, and took Fíli’s offered arm to get up. You walked around the tent for a bit; it was too cold outside. Winter was now in full swing, so you stayed inside. The tent was just roomy enough to walk in a small circle.

“You okay?” Fíli asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “it feels nice to stretch my legs for a bit.” But still, it was cold without the thick furs, and you were only wearing a thin nightgown. So after a few minutes you started shivering. You tried to hide it; you didn’t want the moment to end, the comfortable silence between the two of you, feeling his warmth against your side. But your efforts were futile, of course.

“You’re shivering,” Fíli said. It wasn’t a question; he immediately steered you back to bed.

“Yeah, it’s colder than I thought,” you admitted. You settled back under the furs, glad to rest your legs despite the short distance you had crossed. Fíli reached into his pocket and took out his pipe and pipe weed. He leaned back as he filled it. “So what have you been up to?” you asked him. As he told you about his day you really wanted to pay attention, but your mind drifted away again, and apparently a frown showed on your face, for Fíli asked: “Is something worrying you, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, sorry.” you thought for a moment, unsure of how to answer. You propped your pillows up and sat upright, facing him. “Not worried,” you answered in the end. “Just… confused, I think. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands lately, and I’ve thought a lot about…” you stopped talking. You suddenly felt foolish, saying it out loud, afraid to get so personal all of a sudden when your previous conversations had mostly just been banter. “Forget it,” you said, “it’s probably nothing anyway.”

But Fíli didn’t seem intent on forgetting it. He laid the pipe aside, turning his full attention to you. His blue eyes were full of worry. “You can tell me anything, (Y/N), you know that right? Maybe I can help you.”

Touched by his concern, you decided to trust him. You _knew_ you could trust him. So you took a breath and tried again. “When you – the company – found me in Erebor, what was it like? Were you there?”

He nodded. “I was there. It was a day after Smaug was killed, we had just come from Lake-town with Kíli, Oín, and Bofur. We met up with the rest in the treasury, and after some time we heard Gandalf call to us. He was in a small, deserted corridor, standing before an expanse of wall. It looked like a normal wall, but he was convinced there was a hidden door. For some reason, he _needed_ to open the door. In the end, he did it himself with magic. And that’s when we saw you.” His lips quirked up in a small smile.

“We thought you were dead at first. You were so pale and thin…” you realized you still had to look like a corpse; the time in between now and the ending of your curse hadn’t exactly been good on you. “Until one of us saw you take a breath, I don’t remember who. And then,” he chuckled, “Gandalf of course convinced us all to save the damsel in distress and he put us to sleep. Well, everyone except Thorin, he was too far gone already with the dragon sickness to think about anything else than the Arkenstone.” He picked up his pipe again, and lit it.

“Thank you,” you said. It hadn’t really answered any question that you had, but it was still nice to know how you had been saved.

“Is that what you were… confused about?” Fíli asked after taking a pull on his pipe.

“Not really,” you admitted. “The dream I lived in… I know, now that I’m awake, that it wasn’t real, but I still remember it so _vividly_ … I mean, I lived, well not a lifetime, but I had a life, bleak though it was. The thing is… the thing is that I don’t remember anything from _before_. I’ve tried really hard to recall something, _anything_ , from before the dream, but… nothing. I’m just scared that it’s never going to come back, and all the memories that I have now are fake ones, and they all _suck._ ” You really didn’t want to cry, you tried not to, but you couldn’t stop a few tears from rolling down your cheeks. You hadn’t realized, until you said the words, how lost you really felt.

“Oh, hey, it’s going to be okay,” Fíli said. He abandoned his pipe and set next to you on the bed, brushing your tears away with calloused thumbs.

“I just… I don’t even know who I am,” you said, and you sounded so tired. He put his arm around you and pulled you into a hug. It made you feel a bit better. “You know, (Y/N), even if you won’t remember anything about your life until now… it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you are going to make new ones, _real_ ones, right here in Erebor. You have survived so much already, and you’re going to get stronger, and then anyone standing in your way will be sorry for doing so. You’re a fucking warrior, (Y/N) – no, _don’t_ give me that look, I know a warrior when I see one, and you are one. You’re going to have a great big life here.”

You chuckled weakly. “Thank you,” you said, but it wasn’t enough for all the sweet things he just said to you.


	3. Who Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time, but the mood is lighter! Some banter, some world building, and some confessions...  
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos, you continue to brighten my day!

“Hello, Bilbo,” you said when you saw him enter your tent. You had been sitting on the bed, restless and bored, and was glad to be distracted. “Hullo (Y/N),” Bilbo said, a bright smile on his face. “Good news! Oín told me that he thinks you’re well enough to be discharged. You can move into your rooms in Erebor!”

“Really?! That’s great news! Wait, I have rooms in Erebor?”

“You didn’t think they’d make you sleep in the entrance hall, now did you?”

You chuckled. The entrance hall was where the company had made camp before the Battle of the Five Armies.

“I didn’t think that any rooms would be inhabitable.”

“They weren’t at first, but these past weeks a lot of Dwarves have been putting effort into the royal wing, and there are enough rooms there for the whole company, including you! It’s far from finished, but at least it’s inhabitable now, and we can all be close to each other until the Dwarves from Ered Luin return here.”

“Wow, Bilbo, that’s amazing, I can’t wait to move in! Will… will you be staying, too? Maybe just for a bit? Or are you too anxious to get home?” As much as you hated the thought of Bilbo leaving, you knew it would happen eventually. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t try and stall it for as long as possible.

Still, you were surprised to hear his answer. “You know, (Y/N), I think I will. For a bit. It’s true, I miss my house, and my garden, but… I also rather like it here. And I can’t just leave my friends behind.”

You thought there was more to it than that, but you were too happy about his staying here to bother questioning him about it. You would get the full truth out of him later.

“That’s great news, Bilbo! I’m glad you’re staying, even if it is just for a bit. Now that you’re done with your quest, maybe it’s a good idea to send a letter back to the Shire, just to let them know you’re not dead?”

“Huh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Bilbo said. “It’s a good idea, though. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has always had her eye on my Bag-End, and she would do anything to get her hands on it. I would hate to come home and find that it had fallen into her greedy little hands.”

You smiled at that, knowing his guess was not far from what would actually happen.

Later that day, Thorin entered your tent, one crutch under his armpit to relieve his foot. “I heard you were discharged today, as was I. If you’d like, I can show you to your rooms now?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much. Bilbo told me the about the royal wing. It’s an honour to stay there for the time being. How is your foot doing?”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s slowly healing. A few more weeks and I’ll be able to get rid of this thing.” He pointed at the crutch with clear disgust. “But what do you mean ‘for the time being’? Do you not plan on staying in Erebor?”

“Oh no, I do plan on staying, at least until I’m all better. But I thought that everyone is staying in the royal wing because it is the only inhabitable part, and when the Dwarves from Ered Luin arrive and other wings are restored, then the royal wing is for… just for the royal family?”

“Everyone in the company, and you too, have earned the right to a room in the royal wing. Whether you’d like to stay there or move to another wing once it’s been fixed, that’s up to you of course. But you will always be welcome there.”

“Oh, I… Thank you. That means a lot. I’m honoured.”

Thorin and you made your slow way towards Erebor. When you walked through the gates, you were slightly out of breath from the journey. “How far is the royal wing from here?” you asked.

“It’s near the middle of the mountain,” Thorin said. “Normally, it’s not that far, but given how slow we’re going it will take us a half hour.”

“A half hour?” you exclaimed. He shot you an apologetic look. “I can’t walk for a half hour… I’m already tired from the past ten minutes,” you explained in a softer tone. Luckily, at that moment a solution walked around the corner in the form of Bofur. “Thorin! (Y/N)! There you are!” he exclaimed happily. “We heard you’d be moving in today. I appointed myself the welcome committee,” he said with a wink.

“Bofur! What a nice surprise!” you said. “Could you support me while we walk, please? I’m rather tired.”

“Of course, not a problem! I can even carry you.”

“No thank you. I’m already clinging to my last shred of dignity, I won’t have you take it from me,” you said playfully.

You arrived at the royal wing a good while later, and when you were taken to your room you wanted nothing else than to throw yourself on the bed and not move for a good number of hours. Of course, you first took your time to thank Thorin extensively. He walked in with you, and opened a built-in closet next to the bed. “These are for you,” he said. “Dori has been busy these weeks remaking them to fit you.”

An ensemble of beautiful dresses hung in the closet, and you gasped when Thorin opened the second door, revealing even more stunning fabrics. Some were plain and comfortable, others looked heavy and were richly embroidered. There were also some riding outfits, with trousers. “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Thorin. I’ll make sure to thank Dori as soon as I see him. They’re all so beautiful!” you said as you ran your hand over the fabrics. They felt surprisingly smooth against your skin.

“It’s not a problem,” Thorin said. “These were all Dís’s clothes, but she has long since outgrown them by now. She’ll be happy to know they won’t be wasted.”

“It’s an honour,” you replied. “I hope to do them justice.”

“I’m sure your beauty will surpass theirs, once you regain your health,” Thorin replied smoothly. You gracefully accepted the compliment but couldn’t stop a blush from creeping to your cheeks.

Thorin left you to get settled, and you got into a silk nightgown and finally got to lie in your soft bed. The sheets smelled surprisingly fresh. _They must have washed them for me,_ was your last thought before you drifted into a deep sleep.

* * *

You slowly awakened, and after a moment of disorientation you realized where you were, and your excitement only grew when you let your gaze roam around the room, really taking it in this time. The stone room was divided in two parts, your bed and the closet on one side, on a dais, with a small stair of three steps leading up to it. The second part was the living room, with soft rugs faded with age, a desk, some cabinets and a coffee table with big sofas around it. Some walls were decorated with tapestries, though it was hard to make out what they depicted, and on one side there was a door to a balcony. A beam of sunshine fell in through the window. From the light you could tell that it was morning.

The bed you were lying in was king-size. Once upon a time drapes must have cascaded down on all sides, but now all that was left of them were a few strips of burnt cloth. To your left was the built-in closet, and to your right a bathroom with a tub. Excited to be able to bathe - you hadn’t been able to in the camp – you scrubbed yourself clean. Then you slipped into a simple green dress and left to find the kitchens. You didn’t have to search for long; as soon as you opened the door, delicious smells met you, and all you had to do was follow the smell of fried bacon. When you walked through the doors, you saw that nearly the whole company was already there, seated around a long table. They greeted you, and when you spotted Dori you went to sit next to him. Nori was on your other side and facing you was Ori. You shot them a smile. “Good morning (Y/N)!” Ori said. “Have you slept well?”

“Better than ever,” you said, and you meant it. The soft mattress and fresh sheets had done wonders. “Dori, I want to thank you so much for the clothes. I am amazed you managed to do all that in just three weeks!”

Dori smiled at you. “Oh, it was no problem, miss (Y/N).” And, pointing at the dress you were wearing, he said: “I hope you don’t mind I made them a little bigger, so that you can grow into them.”

“Of course I don’t mind! It’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, again. If there’s anything I can do in return…” but Dori cut you short. “No, I’ll have none of that. Consider this my thanks for your deeds on the battlefield,” he said.

Before you could reply, Bombur entered from the kitchens. “Ah, (Y/N), you’re up! Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear! One hearty breakfast coming right up!”

Less than a minute later, you were sitting before a plate with a mountain of food the size of your head on it. Nori snickered at your slightly intimidated expression. “Well, how else am I supposed to get some meat on these bones?” you said to him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll bet you ten gold coins you won’t even be able to finish half that,” he retorted, ignoring the scandalized look Dori sent him. Suddenly, it got suspiciously silent. Looking around, you saw that most Dwarves were now staring at you, awaiting your response. Aware that your actions would determine their esteem of you, you thought it over. Of course, you had proven yourself on the battlefield, but in a lot of aspects you were still untested.

You looked at your plate. It was loaded with bacon, scrambled eggs, and sausages. Not exactly a light meal, and you knew not to overestimate yourself. “I don’t own any gold, but if I don’t finish at least _three quarters_ of this meal, you can forward any task Dori tells you to do, to me.”

That got the reaction you had been aiming for: a lot of excited ‘oooh’s, and here and there a bet for some coins among themselves. “You lose if you throw up,” Nori said – you nodded – “and if you’re not done within a quarter hour.”

“Twenty minutes.”

Smugly smiling – he very obviously thought you wouldn’t make it – Nori shook your hand. You shot Ori, who was staring at you wide-eyed, a wink and picked up your fork. You were aware that by now, every Dwarf (and Bilbo) was staring at you, and though you felt as if fourteen pairs of eyes were burning holes in you, you acted like you didn’t notice.

When you had finished your sausages, the tension had dissipated a bit. The less invested (like Bilbo and Balin, who were above this pettiness) were picking up their conversations once more. However, you let out a chuckle when you noticed some of the very invested, like Gloín, Fíli and Kíli, and even Dwalin, had slowly scooted closer. Dori, who was now uncomfortably squished between you and Gloín, rolled his eyes and got up to join Balin and Bilbo.

One third of the food was now gone. A few pieces of bacon disappeared, leaving the remaining pieces for the last quarter. Now you just had to make all the egg disappear within ten minutes. You were full by now, quite so, but not uncomfortably so.

Five minutes later, that had changed. Your belly felt bloated and stretched out, and nausea was slowly setting in. But you knew giving up was not an option; you didn’t like losing. As the last bite went down, you felt something else come up. A panicked expression on your face, you pressed a hand to your mouth. Everyone was staring again, even Balin seemed interested.

Right when you thought you had lost, a loud burp made its way out. The Dwarves erupted in loud cheering, and a smile split your face as you joined the laughter. You turned to Nori, and assumed a haughty air as you threw your hair over your shoulder. “I believe you owe me something,” you said.

Nori looked at you for a second, his expression unreadable, but then a laugh escaped him and he shook his head incredulously. “Here you are,” he said, and then, raising his voice: “Let this be a lesson to you all! Don’t ever underestimate miss (Y/N) or you’ll regret it!” He clasped your shoulder, then left the room.

You heard Gloín grumble as he went to Oín to hand him some coins, and his seat was immediately taken by Kíli. Fíli sat down on your other side. “You can give that to me, brother,” Kíli said, pointing at a pouch in Fíli’s hand. The pouch changed owner and you turned to Fíli, ignoring Kíli’s cackle. “Okay, I see how it is,” you said to him, mock-hurt.

“Where do you leave it all?” he said astonished. You stood up and smoothed your dress over your bloated belly. “Expansion,” you replied. Chuckling, he shook his head at you. “So,” Kíli said, “what’s your plan for today?”

“I hadn’t thought about it yet. Maybe I’ll just spend the day getting settled in my room.”

“Which one are you in?”

“Fifth door on the right. You?”

“Nice! We share the first room on the left. Maybe if we yell loud enough, we’ll be able to hear you laugh at our jokes,” Kíli said and winked at you.

“You overestimate your sense of humour,” you retorted.

“We were going to do a bit of exploring, you could come with?” Fíli offered.

“Oh, I’m not moving for at _least_ a half hour.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. You can spend the morning getting settled, and we will come pick you up for lunch, have a little picknick?”

“That actually sounds nice,” you said, smiling. The princes said their goodbyes and headed off Valar knew where, and you took some time for your stomach to settle, then headed back to your room.

A few hours later a knock sounded on the door and the three of you headed off. Through the maze that was Erebor, with its many different tunnels and passages, you quickly lost your sense of direction. “Where are you taking me?” you asked, but the only reply you got was a smirk from Fíli accompanied by a cheeky “You’ll see,” and that was all you could get out of them.

Your curiosity was quickly quenched, however, when you rounded a corner and were met with a soft golden glow, reflected by hundreds of thousands of coins, cups and whatnot. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you took in all the beauty below you. Words could not describe a thing as magnificent as the Ereborian treasure hold, for they would never suffice. The movies didn’t even compare.

You turned to the two brothers, who were looking at you expectantly. “… _This_ is where we’re having our picknick?”

“You’re not going to tell me you’d sit on a field of grass rather than a field of gold,” Kíli said. You shook your head at him, chuckling. “You guys are crazy,” you said, but followed them down anyway.

“Just don’t tell anyone we’ve been down here,” Kíli warned. “Nobody’s actually supposed to be here yet.”

“So why are _we_ here?”

“Come on, (Y/N),” Fíli replied as he helped you down the last step. “When have we ever followed the rules? Plus, it’ll be fun! No one will find out, anyway.”

“You’re probably right. And what’s the worst that could happen?”

It was meant as a rhetorical question, but of course Kíli just had to answer something gross about dragon turds.

“And there goes my appetite!” you said, shoving him into a pile of glittering jewels.

When you had finished lunch, you laid back on the blanket and looked at Fíli while Kíli was trying to skim rubies the size of his fist over the waves of golden coins. He’d been a bit quiet during the meal, and was now staring in the distance, the golden light reflecting in his eyes.

“Are you all right, Fíli?” No reaction. “Fíli?” he jolted before looking at you. “Is something bothering you? You kind of zoned out there.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, his usual smile back on his face. “Just a bit tired, is all. Nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix!”

You chuckled. “I’d be tired too if I had to keep up with a brother like Kíli all day. And speak of the devil! The skimming champion returns!”

Kíli grimaced at you. “You can’t skim stones on gold. They just _slide_ ,” he said with disdain. His grimace grew when Fíli and you laughed at him.

On your way back to your own quarters you were intercepted by Balin. “Ah, Miss (Y/N)? I was hoping to ask you a few questions. Is this a good time?”

You nodded and he followed you into your rooms. You waited for him to speak. “Do you remember when we first met?” he asked.

You thought back. “Of course. It was four days after I woke up from the curse. You had a hard time trusting me,” you recalled with a smile. “I hope I have since earned your trust.”

“Of course, (Y/N). The thing is, you said some things that day that alarmed me, and you told me you would explain those things later. You seemed to know things which you shouldn’t have known, couldn’t have known, and yet you did somehow. It was why you sent some of us out of your dreamworld earlier than the rest, if I remember correctly.”

“You do. I think I can explain it now without causing anything problematic. You see, when I was living in the dreamworld, it was very different from this world. It was another world entirely, and in this world a man once lived. Professor Tolkien. He was very smart, and specialized in languages. He was so good in his profession that he made up an entire working language. And then, to give his language meaning, he wrote multiple books. One of those books was called The Hobbit. It is an account of the adventure of one Bilbo Baggins, and how he reclaimed a mountain from a fire-breathing dragon on a quest with thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard.”

Balin’s eyes widened in realization. “This world… our quest… was a story in your world?”

“It was. That’s how I knew that Bilbo had given the Arkenstone to Bard. It’s how I knew where Thorin and Fíli and Kíli were. It’s how I knew to save their lives. All fifteen of you have been my heroes ever since I read that book. That is why I did not think twice about risking my life to save them.”

“If not for you… all three would have died?” Balin asked, his eyes shining with emotion.

You nodded. “But they’re alive. And that changed things. What I know of things to come, I don’t think it holds true anymore. With saving their lives I… altered the timeline. Small things are different now, yet those small things will have dramatic consequences. I am now almost as blind to the future as the rest of you, except for a few big things. But I will not share those unless it is absolutely necessary; the simple act of telling somebody about them might cause it to never happen. Do you understand now?”

“I do. Thank you for telling me this. I will not mention it to anyone else. I think it is safer that way. But if ever you need help concerning this, you can come to me. I will do my best to handle it with wisdom.”

“Thank you, Balin. That makes me feel better about it all.”

Balin hesitated before he spoke again. “I don’t know if what I’m about to bring up is personal to you, so please tell me if I’m overstepping a boundary. But I heard that you don’t remember anything about your life before the curse.”

You nodded; you had given Fíli permission to talk about it to others. You motioned for Balin to continue. “Well, since you’ll be living with Dwarves and in the royal wing, I would offer you some lessons concerning Dwarven culture, so as to prevent you accidentally offending someone or getting into awkward situations. Would you be interested in that?”

“That’s very generous of you, Balin. I would be very interested indeed!”

You said your goodbyes and as you watched him walk away, he did so with much lighter steps than when he had walked in.

* * *

Two weeks went by. You ate a lot and walked a lot, and you started feeling better and better. But you became restless from just hanging around. You needed a purpose. When you had woken up from the curse, your purpose had been to protect the Durins. You realized you wanted to continue doing that. But when you talked to Dwalin about becoming part of the Royal Guard, he refused. “No, it’s too dangerous,” was all he said, and you replied with: “That depends on the quality of the training I get,” hoping to rile him up, but he wouldn’t budge. You tried to convince him for the rest of the hour, but it was futile.

So you had to come up with a plan to convince Dwalin, somehow. In the meantime, you could help one of the Durins in another way.

“Enter.”

You pushed open Bilbo’s door. “Is this a good time?” you asked.

“Excellent. In fact, I just finished writing these letters. Bound for the Shire. That should hold Lobelia from invading my home,” he added jokingly. “Do you have a reason for your visit?”

“I do, actually. I was hoping to have some boy talk,” you said teasingly.

“Something happened between you and Fíli, then?”

“What? No! Fíli is my _friend_. No, this is about _you_ , Bilbo Baggins. I’ve been wondering why you’re staying here, and not rushing back home after missing it so much.”

“Oh, you know, I just thought it would be kind to… help the Dwarves get settled and all. It wouldn’t be very nice of me to set off the moment my contract ends.”

“Of course. That is a perfectly good reason. Yet I can’t help but think there’s something else going on?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Bilbo retorted dignified.

“You know Bilbo, I heard tell you have been spending an awful lot of time with a certain Thorin Oakenshield.” You raised an eyebrow and looked at Bilbo expectantly.

Bilbo raised a stern eyebrow in return. “What about it?”

“Oh, come on, Bilbo. You know you can talk to me. And I’ve come to know you a bit these past weeks, but even an idiot can see what you’re like around him. Not even Bofur can make you smile like that.”

Bilbo let out a sigh. “All right, I guess there’s no fooling you. I’ve been developing feelings for Thorin ever since that night I saved him from Azog.” A smile appeared on his face. “It seems a lifetime ago now, instead of only a few months. I have no doubts considering what I feel for him. Hell, the only reason I’m still here instead of being well on my way back home is him! It’s just… the thought of actually making that step, it’s scary. Every time I try to say anything about it to him, I start wondering what could happen if he doesn’t return my feelings… Is it really worth risking this friendship?”

“Bilbo, I can’t tell you what to do. And of course it’s scary! But… I think you’ll be better off knowing his feelings toward you, instead of remaining friends and always wondering about what could be. I know from experience, the uncertainty, it’s the hardest thing. Whatever his answer may be, you’ll no longer have to wonder. But,” you added, taking Bilbo’s hand, “if my impression is anything to go on, you don’t have to fear anything. Things will work out between you two,” you promised.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Bilbo said. “It’s nice to actually talk to someone about this. Maybe if I’m feeling brave, and if I can find the right moment, I’ll bring it up this week.”

“Well, I’m proud of you. And I’m here for you if you need to talk about it some more. And I won’t tell a soul, I promise. It will be our little secret. By the way, I am impressed by your taste in men, Bilbo. Thorin’s hot!” At Bilbo’s very shocked look, you clarified: “That doesn’t mean I’m _attracted_ to him. He’s too old for my taste. Hotness and attractiveness are two entirely different things, you know!”

Bilbo groaned. “Can we please talk about something else now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Bilbo. I swear I'll talk about something else next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I hope to post the next one soon. Don't forget to subscribe :)  
> I did not include the manner in which you break the curse and wake up. I left it to your imagination. If you want to know how I would break this curse, feel free to ask about it in the comments.


End file.
